And. They say but little, how much they think I know not; they look ruefully, as if they had newly come from a vaulting-house, and had been quite shot through 'tween wind and water by a she Dunkirk, and had sprung a Leak, Sir. Certain my Master was to blame.
Mir. Why, Andrew?
And. To take away the Wench o'th' sudden from him, and give him no lawful warning; he is tender, and of a young Girls constitution, Sir, ready to get the Green sickness with conceit. Had he but ta'ne his leave in availing Language, or bought an Elegy of his condolement, that the world might have ta'ne notice, he had been an Ass, 't had been some favour.
Mir. Thou say'st true, wise Andrew; but these Scholars are such things, when they can prattle.
And. And very parlous things, Sir.
Mir. And when [they] gain the liberty to distinguish the difference 'twixt a Father and a Fool, to look below, and spie a younger Brother pruning up, and dressing up his expectations in a rare glass of beauty, too good for him; those dreaming Scholars then turn Tyrants, Andrew, and shew no mercy.
Mir. The more's the pity, Sir.
Mir. Thou told'st me of a trick to catch my Brother, and anger him a little farther, Andrew. It shall be only anger, I assure thee, and little shame.
And. And I can fit you, Sir. Hark in your ear.
Mir. Thy Wife?