Actus 4. Scaena 1.
Enter Brisac, Eustace, Egremont, Cowsy.
Nere talke to me, you are no men but Masquers,
Shapes, shadowes, and the signes of men, Court bubbles,
That every breath or breakes or blowes away,
You have no soules, no metal in your bloods,
No heat to stir ye when ye have occasion,
Frozen dull things that must be turn'd with leavers;
Are you the Courtiers and the travail'd Gallants?
The spritely fellowes, that the people talk of?
Ye have no more Spirit than three sleepy sops.
Eust. What would ye have me doe, Sir? Bri. Follow your brother,
And get ye out of doores, and seeke your fortune,
Stand still becalm'd, and let an aged Dotard,
A haire-brain'd puppie, and a bookish boy,
That never knew a blade above a penknife,
And how to cut his meat in Characters,
Crosse my designe, and take thine owne Wench from thee,
In mine owne house too? Thou dispis'd poore fellow!
Eust. The reverence that I ever bare to you Sir,
Then to my Uncle, with whom't had been but sawcinesse
T'have been so rough— Egre. And we not seeing him
Strive in his owne cause, that was principal,
And should have led us on, thought it ill manners
To begin a quarrel here. Bri. You dare doe nothing.
Doe you make your care the excuse of your cowardlinesse?
Three boyes on hobbie-horses with three penny halberts,
Would beat you all. Cow. You must not say so. Bri. Yes,
And sing it too. Cow. You are a man of peace,
Therefore we must give way. Bri. Ile make my way;
And therefore quickly leave me, or Ile force you;
And having first torne off your flaunting feathers,
Ile tramble on 'em; and if that cannot teach you
To quit my house, Ile kick ye out of my gates;
You gawdie glow-wormes carrying seeming fire,
Yet have no heat within ye. Cow. O blest travaile!
How much we owe thee for our power to suffer?
Egre. Some spleenative youths now that had never seen
More than thy Countrie smoak, will grow in choler.
It would shew fine in us. Eust. Yes marry would it,
That are prime Courtiers, and must know no angers,
But give thankes for our injuries, if we purpose
To hold our places. Bri. Will you find the doore?
And finde it suddenlie, you shall lead the way, Sir,
With your perfum'd retinew, and cover
The now lost Angellina, or build on it,
I will adopt some beggers doubtful issue
Before thou shall inherit. Eust. Wee'l to councel,
And what may be done by mans wit or valour
Wee'l put in execution. Bri. Doe, or never
Hope I shall know thee. Le. O Sir, have I found you? [Exeunt.
Ent. Lewis.
Bri. I never hid my selfe, whence flows this fury? With which as it appeares, you come to fright me.
Lew. I smell a plot, meere conspiracy
Among ye all to defeate me of my daughter,
And if she be not suddenly delivered,
Untainted in her reputation too,
The best of France shall know how I am juggled with.
She is my heire, and if she may be ravisht
Thus from my care, farewel Nobilitie;
Honour and blood are meer neglected nothings.
Bri. Nay then, my Lord you go too far, and tax him
Whose innocencie understands not what feare is;
If your unconstant daughter will not dwell
On certainties, must you thenceforth conclude,
That I am fickle? What have I omitted,
To make good my integritie and truth?
Nor can her lightnesse, nor your supposition
Cast an aspersion on me. Lew. I am wounded
In fact, nor can words cure it: doe not trifle,
But speedilie, once more I doe repeate it,
Restore my daughter as I brought her hither.
Or you shall heare from me in such a kinde,
As you will blush to answer. Bri. all the world
I think conspires to vex me, yet I will not
Torment my selfe; some spriteful mirth must banish
The rage and melancholie which hath almost choak'd me,
T'a knowing man tis Physick, and tis thought on,
One merrie houre Ile have in spight of fortune,
To cheare my heart, and this is that appointed,
This night Ile hugge my Lilly in mine armes,
Provocatives are sent before to cheare me;
We old men need 'em, and though we pay deare,
For our stolne pleasures, so it be done securely;
The charge much like a sharp sawce gives 'm relish.
Well honest Andrew, I gave you a farme,
And it shall have a beacon to give warning
To my other Tenants when the Foe approaches;
And presently, you being bestowed else where,
Ile graffe it with dexteritie on your forehead;
Indeed I will Lilly. I come poore Andrew. Exit.
Actus IV. Scaena II.