And. If he were one that would make jests of you,
Or plague ye with making your religious gravitie
Ridiculous to your neighbours, Then you had
Some cause to be perplex'd. Bri. I shall become
Discourse for Clowns and Tapsters. And. Quick, Lilly, Quick,
Hee's now past kissing, between point and point.
He swounds, fetch him some Cordiall—Now put in Sir.
Mir. Who may this be? sure this is some mistake:
Let me see his face, weares he not a false beard?
It cannot be Brisac that worthie Gentleman,
The pillar and the patron of his Countrie;
He is too prudent and too cautelous,
Experience hath taught him t'avoid these fooleries,
He is the punisher and not the doer,
Besides hee's old and cold, unfit for woman;
This is some Counterfeit, he shall be whipt for't,
Some base abuser of my worthie brother.
Bri. Open the doores, will ye'imprison me? are ye my Judges?
Mir. The man raves! This is not judicious Brisac: Yet now I think on't, a' has a kinde of dog looke Like my brother, a guiltie hanging face.
Bri. Ile suffer bravely, doe your worst, doe, doe.
Mir. Why, it's manly in you. Bri. Nor will I raile nor curse,
You slave, you whore, I will not meddle with you,
But all the torments that ere fell on men,
That fed on mischiefe, fall heavily on you all. Exit.
Lil. You have giv'n him a heat, Sir. Mir. He will ride you The better, Lil. And. Wee'l teach him to meddle with Scholars.
Mir. he shall make good his promise t'increase thy Farm, Andrew
Or Ile jeere him to death, feare nothing Lilly,
I am thy Champion. This jeast goes to Charles,
And then Ile hunt him out, and Monsieur Eustace
The gallant Courtier, and laugh heartily
To see'm mourne together. And. Twill be rare, Sir. Exeunt.
Actus 5. Scaena 1.
Eustace, Egremont. Cowsy.