Sav. Next, that my Steward keep his place, and power, and bound my Brother's wildness with his care.
Young Lo. I'le hear no more of this Apocrypha, bind it by it self Steward.
Sav. This is your Brothers will, and as I take it, he makes no mention of such company as you would draw unto you. Captains of Gallyfoists, such as in a clear day have seen Callis, fellows that have no more of God, than their Oaths come to: they wear swords to reach fire at a Play, and get there the oyl'd end of a Pipe, for their Guerdon: then the remnant of your Regiment, are wealthy Tobacco-Marchants, that set up with one Ounce, and break for three: together with a Forlorn hope of Poets, and all these look like Carthusians, things without linnen: Are these fit company for my Masters Brother?
Young Lo. I will either convert thee (O thou Pagan Steward) or presently confound thee and thy reckonings, who's there? Call in the Gentlemen.
Sav. Good Sir.
Young Lo. Nay, you shall know both who I am, and where I am.
Sav. Are you my Masters Brother?
Young Lo. Are you the sage Master Steward, with a face like an old Ephemerides?
Enter his Comrades, Captain, Traveller, &c.
Sav. Then God help us all I say.