Char. These not repined at, as you seem to inform me,

The motion must be of a strange condition,
If I refuse to yield to't; therefore, Eustace,
Without this tempest in your looks, propound it,
And fear not a denial.

Eust. I require then,

(As from an enemy, and not a brother)
The reputation of a man, the honour,
Not by a fair war won when I was waking,
But in my sleep of folly ravish'd from me!
With these, the restitution of my sword,
With large acknowledgment of satisfaction,
My coach, my horses; I will part with life,
Ere lose one hair of them; and, what concludes all,
My mistress Angellina, as she was
Before the musical magic of thy tongue
Enchanted and seduced her. These perform'd,
And with submission, and done publicly,
At my father's and my uncle's intercession,
(That I put in too) I, perhaps, may listen
To terms of reconcilement; but if these

In every circumstance are not subscribed to,
To the last gasp I defy thee.

Char. These are strict

Conditions to a brother.

Eust. My rest is up,

Nor will I go less.

Char. I'm no gamester, Eustace;

Yet I can guess, your resolution stands
To win or lose all; I rejoice to find you
Thus tender of your honour, and that at length
You understand what a wretched thing you were,
How deeply wounded by yourself, and made
Almost incurable, in your own hopes;
The dead flesh of pale cowardice growing over
Your fester'd reputation, which no balm
Or gentle unguent ever could make way to.
And I am happy that I was the surgeon,
That did apply those burning corrosives,
That render you already sensible

O' th' danger you were plunged in; in teaching
And by a fair gradation, how far,

And with what curious respect and care
The peace and credit of a man within

[you

Char. I'll come to it, brother; But if you think to build upon my ruins, You'll find a false foundation: Your high offers, Taught by the masters of dependencies, That, by compounding differences 'tween others, Supply their own necessities, with me Will never carry it. As you are my brother, I would dispense a little, but no more Than honour can give way to; nor must I Destroy that in myself I love in you:

And therefore let not hopes nor threats persuade I will descend to any composition,

For which I may be censured.

Eust. You shall fight then.

[you

And fought his battles in compliments and cringes;
When's understanding waved in a flaunting feather,
And his best contemplation look'd no further
Than a new-fashion'd doublet. I confess, then,
The lofty noise your Greek made, only pleased me;
But, now he's turn'd an Oliver and a Rowland-
(Nay, the whole dozen of peers are bound up in
Let me remember! when I was of his years, [him.)
I did look very like him; and, did you see
My picture as I was then, you would swear
That gallant Eustace (I mean, now he dares fight)
Was the true substance and the perfect figure.
Nay, nay, no anger; you shall have enough, Charles.
Char. Sure, sir, I shall not need addition from
him.

Eust. Nor I from any; this shall decide my Though I am lost to all deserving men, [interest! To all that men call good, for suffering tamely Insufferable wrongs, and justly slighted,

By yielding to a minute of delay

In my revenge, and from that made a stranger
Unto my father's house and favour, o'erwhelm'd
With all disgraces; yet I will mount upward,
And force myself a fortune, though my birth
And breeding do deny it!

Char. Seek not, Eustace,

By violence, what will be offer'd to you
On easier composition. Though I was not

Allied unto your weakness, you shall find me
A brother to your bravery of spirit ;
And one that, not compell'd to't by your sword,
(Which I must never fear) will share with you
In all but Angellina.

Mir. Nobly said, Charles;

And learn from my experience, you may hear reason, And never maim your fighting.-For your credit, Which you think you have lost, spare Charles; and swinge me,

And soundly, three or four walking velvet cloaks, That wear no swords to guard 'em, yet deserve it, Thou art made up again.

Eust. All this is lip-salve.

Mir. It shall be heart's-ease, Eustace, ere I

And see our horses saddled! 'tis no time
To talk, but do.-Eustace, you now are offer'd
A spacious field, and in a pious war,
To exercise your valour; here's a cause,
And such a one, in which to fall is honourable,
Your duty and reverence due to a father's name
Commanding it: But these unnatural jars,
Arising between brothers, should you prosper,
Would shame your victory.

Eust. I would do much, sir;

But still, my reputation

Mir. Charles shall give you

All decent satisfaction; nay, join hands,

SCENE II.-On the high Road to Paris. Enter LEWIS, BRISAC, ANGELLINA, SYLVIA, and Officers. Lew. I am deaf to all persuasion.

Bri. I use none;

Nor doubt I, though a while my innocence suffers, But, when the king shall understand how falsely Your malice hath inform'd him, he in justice Must set me right again.

Ang. Sir, let not passion

So far transport you as to think in reason,
This violent course repairs, but rather ruins,
That honour you would build up; You destroy
What you would seem to nourish. If respect
Of my preferment, or my reputation,
May challenge your paternal love and care,
Why do you, now good fortune has provided
A better husband for me than your hopes
Could ever fancy, strive to rob me of him?
In what is my love Charles defective, sir?
Unless deep learning be a blemish in him,
Or well-proportion'd limbs be mulcts in nature,
Or, what you only aim'd at, large revenues,
Are on the sudden grown distasteful to you,
Of what can you accuse him?

Lew. Of a rape

Done to honour, which thy ravenous lust
Made thee consent to.

Syl. Her lust! You are her father.

Lew. And you her bawd.

Syl. Were you ten lords, 'tis false;

The pureness of her chaste thoughts entertains not Such spotted instruments.

Ang. As I have a soul, sir

Lew. I am not to be alter'd! To sit down With this disgrace would argue me a peasant, And not born noble: All rigour that the law, And that increase of power by favour yields, Shall be with all severity inflicted;

You have the king's hand for't; no bail will serve, And therefore at your perils, officers, away with 'em.

Your reverend worship never more attempt
To search my Lily-pot: you see what follows.
Lew. Is the king's power contemn'd?

Mir. No, but the torrent

Of your wilful folly stopp'd.-And for you, good sir,
If you would but be sensible, what can you wish,
But the satisfaction of an obstinate will,
That is not tender'd to you; rather than
Be cross'd in what you purposed, you'll undo
Your daughter's fame, the credit of your judgment,
And your old foolish neighbour! make your states,
And in a suit not worth a cardecue,

A prey to advocates, and their buckram scribes ;
And after they have plumed ye, return home,
Like a couple of naked fowls, without a feather.
Char. This is a most strong truth, sir.
Mir. No, no, monsieur,

Let us be right Frenchmen; violent to charge,
But, when our follies are repell'd by reason,

'Tis fit that we retreat, and ne'er come on more. Observe my learned Charles; he'll get thee a nephew

On Angellina, shall dispute in her belly,

And suck the nurse by logic. And here's Eustace;
He was an ass, but now is grown an Amadis ;
Nor shall he want a wife, if all my land

For a jointure can effect it. You're a good lord,
And of a gentle nature; in your looks

I see a kind consent, and it shews lovely.-
And, do you hear, old fool?

Bri. Your brother, sir.

Mir. But I'll not chide:

Hereafter, like me, ever dote on learning;
The mere belief is excellent, 'twill save you.
And next, love valour; though you dare not fight
Yourself, or fright a foolish officer, young Eustace
Can do it to a hair. And to conclude,
Let Andrew's farm be increas'd, that is your
penance,

You know for what; and see you rut no more.
You understand me. So embrace on all sides.
I'll pay those billmen, and make large amends;
Provided we preserve you still our friends.

[Exeunt.

To tell ye, gentlemen, we have a play,
A new one too, and that 'tis launch'd to-day,
The name ye know, that's nothing to my story;
To tell ye, 'tis familiar, void of glory,
Of state, of bitterness-of wit, you'll say,
For that is now held wit that tends that way,
Which we avoid. To tell ye too, 'tis merry,
And meant to make you pleasant, and not weary :
The streams that guide ye, easy to attend :
To tell ye, that 'tis good, is to no end,
If you believe not. Nay, to go thus far,

To swear it, if you swear against, is war.
To assure you any thing, unless you see,
And so conceive, is vanity in me;
Therefore I leave it to itself; and pray,
Like a good bark, it may work out to-day,

And stem all doubts: 'twas built for such a proof,

And we hope highly: If she lie aloof

For her own vantage, to give wind at will,
Why, let her work, only be you but still,

And sweet-opinion'd; and we are bound to say,
You're worthy judges, and you, crown the play.

SCENE I.-The Street.

Enter ANGELO, MILANES, and ARSENIO.

He has now put off

The funeral black your rich heir wears with joy,
When he pretends to weep for his dead father.
Your gathering sires so long heap muck together,
That their kind sons, to rid them of their care,
Wish them in heaven; or, if they take a taste
Of purgatory by the way, it matters not,
Provided they remove hence. What is befallen
To his father in the other world, I ask not;

I am sure his prayer is heard. 'Would I could use
For mine, in the same method.

Ars. Fie upon thee!

This is profane.

[one

Mil. Good doctor, do not school me For a fault you are not free from. On my life, Were all heirs in Corduba put to their oaths, They would confess, with me, 'tis a sound tenet: I'm sure Leandro does.

Ars. He is the owner

Of a fair estate.

Mil. And fairly he deserves it;
He's a royal fellow; yet observes a mean
In all his courses, careful too on whom
He showers his bounties. He that's liberal
To all alike, may do a good by chance,
But never out of judgment. This invites
The prime men of the city to frequent
All places he resorts to, and are happy
In his sweet converse.

Ars. Don Jamie, the brother

To the grandee Don Henrique, appears much taken With his behaviour.

Mil. There is something more in't :

He needs his purse, and knows how to make use
"Tis now in fashion for your Don, that's poor, [on't.
To vow all leagues of friendship with a merchant
That can supply his wants; and howsoe'er
Don Jamie's noble born, his elder brother
Don Henrique rich, and his revenues long since
Encreas'd by marrying with a wealthy heir,
Call'd Madam Violante, he yet holds

A hard hand over Jamie, allowing him

A bare annuity only.

Ars. Yet, 'tis said,

He hath no child; and, by the laws of Spain,
If he die without issue, Don Jamie
Inherits his estate.

Mil. Why, that's the reason

Of their so many jars. Though the young lord Be sick of th' elder brother, and in reason Should flatter and observe him, he's of a nature Too bold and fierce to stoop so, but bears up, Presuming on his hopes.

Ars. What's the young lad

That all of 'em make so much of?

Mil. 'Tis a sweet one,

And the best condition'd youth I ever saw yet;
So humble, and so affable, that he wins

The love of all that know him; and so modest,
That in despite of poverty, he would starve
Rather than ask a courtesy. He's the son
Of a poor cast captain, one Octavio ;

And she, that once was call'd the fair Jacintha,
Is happy in being his mother. For his sake,
Though in their fortunes fallen, they are esteem'd
And cherish'd by the best.

Enter JAMIE, LEANDRO, and ASCANIO.

Oh, here they come.

[of

I now may spare his character; but observe him,

He'll justify my report.

Jam. My good Ascanio,

Repair more often to me; above women

Thou ever shalt be welcome.

Asc. My lord, your favours

May quickly teach a raw untutor❜d youth To be both rude and saucy.

Lean. You cannot be

To trail a pike under your brave command!
There I would follow you as a guide to honour,
Though all the horrors of the war made up
To stop my passage.

Jam. Thou'rt a hopeful boy,

And it was bravely spoken: For this answer, I love thee more than ever.

Mil. 'Pity, such seeds

Of promising courage should not grow and prosper!
Ang. Whatever his reputed parents be.
He hath a mind that speaks him right and noble.
Lean. You make him blush.-It needs not,
sweet Ascanio;

We may hear praises when they are deserved,
Our modesty unwounded. By my life,
I would add something to the building up
So fair a mind; and if, till you are fit
To bear arms in the field, you'll spend some years
In Salamanca, I'll supply your studies
With all conveniencies.

Asc. Your goodness, signiors,
And charitable favours, overwhelm me.
If I were of your blood, you could not be
More tender of me: What then can I pay,
A poor boy and a stranger, but a heart
Bound to your service? With what willingness
I would receive, good sir, your noble offer,
Heaven can bear witness for me: but, alas,
Should I embrace the means to raise my fortunes,
I must destroy the lives of my poor parents,
To whom I owe my being; they in me
Place all their comforts, and, as if I were
The light of their dim eyes, are so indulgent,
They cannot brook one short day's absence from me;
And, what will hardly win belief, though young,
I am their steward and their nurse: The bounties
Which others bestow on me, serve to sustain 'em ;
And to forsake them in their age, in me
Were more than murder.