 | The Elder Brother |  |
Actus Quartus.
Scena Prima.
Enter Brisac, Eustace, Egremont, Cowsy.Brisac.
Ne'er talk to me, you are no men but Masquers;
shapes, shadows, and the signs of men, Court-
bubbles, that every breath or breaks or blows away. You
have no souls, 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
travell'd Gallants? the spritely Fellows that the people talk
of? Ye have no more spirit than three sleepy sopes.
Eust.
What would ye have me do, Sir?
Bri.
Follow your Brother, and get ye out of doors, and
seek your Fortune. Stand still becalm'd, and let an aged
Dotard, a hair-brain'd Puppy, and a Bookish Boy, that
his meat in Characters, cross my design, and take thine own
Wench from thee, in mine own house too? Thou despis'd
poor fellow!
Eust.
The reverence that I ever bare to you, Sir, then
to my Uncle, with whom 't had been but sawciness t'have
been so rough—
Egre.
And we not seeing him strive in his own cause,
that was principal, and should have led us on, thought it ill
manners to begin a quarrel here.
Bri.
You dare do nothing. Do you make your care the
excuse of your Cowardise? Three Boys on Hobby-horses,
with three penny Halberds, 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.
I'll make my way, and therefore quickly leave me,
or I'll force you; and having first torn off your slanting
feathers, I'll trample on 'em; and if that cannot teach you
to quit my house I'll, kick ye out of my gates; you gawdy
Glow-worms, carrying seeming fire, yet have no heat within
ye.
Cow.
O blest travel! how much we owe thee for our
power to suffer?
Egre.
Some splenetive Youths now, that had never seen
more than thy Country 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 thanks for our injuries, if
we purpose to hold our places.
Bri.
Will you find the door? and find it suddenly? you
shall lead the way, Sir, with your perfum'd retinue, and
recover the now lost Angellina, or build on it, I will adopt
some beggar's doubtful issue, before thou shalt inherit.
Eust.
We'll to counsel, and what may be done by man's
wit or valour, we'll put in Execution.
Bri.
Do, or never hope I shall know thee.
[Exeunt.
Enter Lewis.
Lew.
O Sir, have I found you?
Bri.
I never hid my self; whence flows this fury, with
which, as it appears, you come to fright me?
Lew.
I smell a plot, meer conspiracy amongst ye all to
defeat me of my Daughter; and if she be not suddenly deliver'd,
untainted in her reputation too, the best of France
shall know how I am jugled with. She is my Heir, and if
she may be ravish'd thus from my care, farewel Nobility;
Honour and Blood are meer neglected nothings.
Bri.
Nay then, my Lord, you go too far, and tax him,
whose innocency understands not what fear 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 integrity and truth? nor can
her lightness, nor your supposition, cast an aspersion on me.
Lew.
I am wounded in fact, nor can words cure it: do
not trifle, but speedily, once more I do repeat it, restore
my Daughter as I brought her hither, or you shall hear
from me in such a kind, as you will blush to answer.
Bri.
All the world, I think, conspires to vex me, yet I
will not torment my self: some sprightful mirth must banish
the rage and melancholy which hath almost choak'd me;
t' a knowing man 'tis Physick, and 'tis thought on; one
merry hour I'll have in spight of Fortune, to chear my
heart, and this is that appointed; this night I'll hug my
Lilly in mine arms, provocatives are sent before to chear
me, we old men need 'em, and though we pay dear for
our stoln pleasures, so it be done securely, the charge much
like a sharp sauce, gives 'em relish. Well, honest Andrew,
I gave you a Farm, and it shall have a Beacon, to give
warning to my other Tenants when the Foe approaches;
and presently, you being bestowed else-where, I'le graff it,
with dexterity on your forehead; indeed I will, Lilly, I
come, poor Andrew.
[Exit.
SCENA II.
Enter Miramont, Andrew.Mir.
Do they chafer roundly?
And.
As they were rubb'd with Soap, Sir, and now they
swear aloud, now calm again; like a King of Bells, whose
sound the wind still alters, and then they sit in counsel what
to do, and then they jar again what shall be done; they
talk of Warrants from the Parliament, Complaints to the
King, and Forces from the Province; they have a thousand
heads in a thousand minutes, yet ne'er a one head worth a
head of Garlick.
Mir.
Long may they chafe, and long may we laugh at
'em; a couple of pure Puppies yok'd together. But what
sayes the young Courtier Master Eustace, and his two
warlike Friends?
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 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.
And.
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?
And.
So I assure ye; this night at twelve a clock.
Mir.
'Tis neat and handsome; there are twenty Crowns
due to thy project, Andrew; I've time to visit Charles, and
see what Lecture he reads to his Mistris. That done, I'le
not fail to be with you.
And.
Nor I to watch my master—
[Exeunt.
SCENA III.
Enter Angellia, Sylvia, with a Taper.Ang.
I'm worse than e'er I was; for now I fear, that
that I love, that that I only dote on; he follows me through
every room I pass, and with a strong set eye he gazes on me,
as if his spark of innocence were blown into a flame of lust.
Virtue defend me. His Uncle too is absent, and 'tis night;
and what these opportunities may teach him—What
fear and endless care 'tis to be honest! to be a Maid what
misery, what mischief! Would I were rid of it, so it
were fairly.
Syl.
You need not fear that, will you be a child still? He
follows you, but still to look upon you; or if he did desire to
lie with ye, 'tis but your own desire, you love for that end;
I'le lay my life, if he were now a bed w'ye, he is so modest;
he would fall asleep straight.
Ang.
Dare you venture that?
Syl.
Let him consent, and have at ye; I fear him not, he
knows not what a woman is, nor how to find the mystery
men aim at. Are you afraid of your own shadow, Madam?
Ang.
He follows still, yet with a sober face; would I might
know the worst, and then I were satisfied.
Ye may both, and let him but go with ye.
Char.
Why do you flie me? what have I so ill about me,
or within me, to deserve it?
Ang.
I am going to bed, Sir.
Char.
And I am come to light ye; I am a Maid, and 'tis
a Maidens office.
Ang.
You may have me to bed, Sir, without a scruple, and
yet I am chary too who comes about me. Two Innocents
should not fear one another.
Syl.
The Gentleman says true. Pluck up your heart,
Madam.
Char.
The glorious Sun both rising and declining we boldly
look upon; even then, sweet Lady, when, like a modest
Bride, he draws nights curtains, even then he blushes, that
men should behold him.
Ang.
I fear he will perswade me to mistake him.
Syl.
'Tis easily done, if you will give your mind to't.
Ang.
Pray ye to your bed.
Char.
Why not to yours, dear Mistris? one heart and
one bed.
Ang.
True, Sir, when 'tis lawful: but yet you know—
Char.
I would not know, forget it; those are but sickly
loves that hang on Ceremonies, nurs'd up with doubts and
fears; ours high and healthful, full of belief, and sit to
teach the Priest: Love shall seal first, then hands confirm
the bargain.
Ang.
I shall be a Heretick if this continue. What would
you do a bed? you make me blush, Sir.
Char.
I'd see you sleep, for sure your sleeps are excellent,
you that are waking such a noted wonder, must in your slumber
prove an admiration. I would behold your dreams too,
if 't were possible; those were rich showes.
Ang.
I am becoming Traitor.
Char.
Then like blew Neptune courting of an Island,
where all the perfumes and the precious things that wait upon
great Nature are laid up, I'd clip it in my arms, and
chastly kiss it, dwell in your bosome like your dearest
thoughts, and sigh and weep.
Ang.
I've too much woman in me.
Char.
And those true tears falling on your pure Crystals,
should turn to armelets for great Queens t'adore.
Ang.
I must be gone.
Char.
Do not, I will not hurt ye; this is to let you know,
my worthiest Lady, y'have clear'd my mind, and I can speak
of love too: Fear not my manners, though I never knew,
before these few hours, what a Beauty was, and such a one
that fires all hearts that feel it; yet I have read of vertuous
Temperance, and study'd it among my other Secrets; and
sooner would I force a separation betwixt' this spirit and
the case of flesh, than but conceive one rudeness against
Chastity.
Ang.
Then we may walk.
Char.
And talk of any thing, any fit for your ears, and
my language; though I was bred up dull, I was ever civil;
'tis true, I have found it hard to look on you, and not desire,
'twill prove a wise mans task; yet those desires I have
so mingled still, and tempered with the quality of honour,
that if you should yield, I should hate you for't. I am no
Courtier of a light condition, apt to take fire at every beauteous
face; that only serves his will and wantonness, and
lets the serious part run by as thin neglected sand. Whiteness
of name, you must be mine, why should I rob my self of
that that lawfully must make me happy? why should I
seek to cuckold my delights, and widow all those sweets I
aim at in you? We'll lose our selves in Venus Groves of
Myrtle, where every little Bud shall be a Cupid, and sing
of love and youth, each wind that blows, and curls the
velvet leaves, shall breed delights, the wanton Springs shall
call us to their banks; and on the perfum'd flowers we'll
feast our senses; yet we'll walk by untainted of their pleasures,
and as they were pure Temples we'll talk in them.
Ang.
To bed, and pray then, we may have a fair end of
our fair loves; would I were worthy of you, or of such parents
that might give you thanks: But I am poor in all but
in your love. Once more, good night.
Char.
A good night t'ye, and may the dew of sleep fall
gently on you, sweet one, and lock up those fair lights in
pleasing slumbers; no dreams but chaste and clear attempt
your fancy, and break betimes sweet morn, I've lost my
light else.
Ang.
Let it be ever night when I lose you.
Syl.
This Scholar never went to a Free-School, he's so
simple.
Enter a Servant.
Serv.
Your Brother, with two Gallants, is at door, Sir,
and they're so violent; they'll take no denial.
Ang.
This is no fit time of night.
Char.
Let 'em in, Mistris.
Serv.
They stay no leave; shall I raise the house on 'em?
Char.
Not a man, nor make no murmur of't I charge
ye.
Enter Eustace, Egremont, Cowsy.
Eust.
They're here, my Uncle absent, stand close to me.
How do you, Brother, with your curious story? have you
not read her yet sufficiently?
Char.
No, Brother, no; I stay yet in the Preface: the
style's too hard for you.
Eust.
I must entreat her; she's parcel of my goods.
Char.
She's all when you have her.
Ang.
Hold off your hands, unmannerly, rude Sir; nor I,
nor what I have depend on you.
Char.
Do, let her alone, she gives good counsel; do not
trouble your self with Ladies, they are too light: Let out
your Land, and get a provident Steward.
Ang.
I cannot love ye, let that satisfie you; such vanities
as you, are to be laugh'd at.
Eust.
Nay, then you must go; I must claim mine own.
Both.
Away, away with her.
Char.
Let her alone, pray let her alone,
She strikes of Eustace's hat.
and take your Coxcomb up: Let me talk
civilly a while with you, Brother. It may be
on some terms I may part with her.
Eust.
O, is your heart come down? what
are your terms, Sir? Put up, put up.
Snatches away his sword.
Char.
This is the first and chiefest, let's
walk a turn. Now stand off, fools, I advise ye, stand as far
off as you would hope for mercy: this is the first sword yet
I ever handled, and a sword's a beauteous thing to look upon;
and if it hold, I shall so hunt your insolence: 'tis
sharp, I'm sure, and if I put it home, 'tis ten to one I shall
new pink your Sattins; I find I have spirit enough to dispose
of it, and will enough to make ye all examples; let me
toss it round, I have the full command on't. Fetch me a
native Fencer, I defie him; I feel the fire of ten strong spirits
in me. Do you watch me when my Uncle is absent?
this is my grief, I shall be flesh'd on Cowards; teach me to
fight, I willing am to learn. Are ye all gilded flies, nothing
but shew in ye? why stand ye gaping? who now touches her?
who calls her his, or who dares name her to me? but name
her as his own; who dares look on her? that shall be mortal
too; but think, 'tis dangerous. Art thou a fit man to inherit
Land, and hast no wit nor spirit to maintain it? Stand
still, thou sign of a man, and pray for thy friends, pray heartily,
good prayers may restore ye.
Ang.
But do not kill 'em, Sir.
Char.
You speak too late, Dear; it is my first fight, and
I must do bravely, I must not look with partial eyes on any;
I cannot spare a button of these Gentlemen; did life lie in
their heel, Achilles like, I'd shoot my anger at those parts,
and kill 'em. Who waits within?
Ser.
Sir.
Char.
View all these, view 'em well, go round about 'em,
and still view their faces; round about yet, see how death
waits upon 'em, for thou shalt never view 'em more.
Eust.
Pray hold, Sir.
Char.
I cannot hold, you stand so fair before me; I must
bid him post to the King, and get my pardon instantly, I
have need on't.
Eust.
Are you so unnatural?
Char.
You shall die last, Sir, I'll take thee dead, thou
art no man to fight with. Come, will ye come? Me-thinks
I've fought whole Battels.
Cow.
We have no quarrel to you that we know on, Sir.
Egre.
We'll quit the house, and ask ye mercy too. Good
Lady, let no murther be done here; we came but to parly.
Char.
How my sword thirsts after them? Stand away,
Sweet.
Eust.
Pray, Sir, take my submission, and I disclaim for
ever.
Char.
Away, ye poor things, ye despicable creatures!
do you come poste to fetch a Lady from me? from a poor
School-boy that ye scorn'd of late, and grow lame in your
hearts when you should execute? Pray take her, take her,
I am weary of her: What did you bring to carry her?
Egre.
A Coach and four Horses.
Char.
But are they good?
Egre.
As good as France can shew Sir.
Char.
Are you willing to leave those, and take your safeties?
Speak quickly.
Eust.
Yes with all our hearts.
Char.
'Tis done then. Many have got one Horse, I've
got four by th'bargain.
Enter Miramont.
Mir.
How now, who's here?
Ser.
Nay, now y'are gone without bail.
Mir.
What, drawn, my Friends? Fetch me my two-hand
Sword; I will not leave a head on your shoulders,
Wretches.
Eust.
In troth, Sir, I came but to do my duty.
Both.
And we to renew our loves.
Mir.
Bring me a Blanket. What came they for?
Ang.
To borrow me a while, Sir; but one that never
fought yet, has so curri'd, so bastinado'd them with manly
carriage, they stand like things Gorgon had turn'd to stone:
they watch'd your being absent, and then thought they
might do wonders here, and they have done so; for by my
troth I wonder at their coldness, the nipping North or Frost
never came near them; St
George upon a sign would grow
more sensible. If the name of Honour were for ever to
be lost, these were the most sufficient men to do it in all
the world; and yet they are but young, what will they rise
to? They're as full of fire as a frozen Glow-worms rattle,
and shine as goodly: Nobility and patience are match'd
rarely in these three Gentlemen, they have right use on't;
they'll stand still for an hour and be beaten. These are the
Anagrams of three great Worthies.
Mir.
They will infect my house with cowardize, if they
breath longer in it; my roof covers no baffl'd Monsieurs,
walk and air your selves; as I live they stay not here.
White-liver'd wretches, without one word to ask a reason
why. Vanish, 'tis the last warning, and with speed; for
if I take ye in hand, I shall dissect you, and read upon your
flegmatick dull Carcases. My Horse again there: I have
other business, which you shall hear hereafter, and laugh
at it. Good-night Charles, fair goodness to your dear Lady;
'tis late, 'tis late.
Ang.
Pray, Sir, be careful of us.
Mir.
It is enough, my best care shall attend ye.
[Exeunt.
SCENA IV.
Enter Andrew.And.
Are you come, old Master? Very good, your Horse
is well set up; but ere you part, I'll ride you, and spur your
Reverend Justiceship such a question, as I shall make the sides
of your Reputation bleed, truly I will. Now must I play
at Bo peep—A Banquet—well, Potatoes and
Eringoes, and, as I take it, Cantharides—Excellent,
a Priapism follows, and as I'll handle it, it shall, old Lecherous
Goat in Authority. Now they begin to Bill; how
he slavers her! Gramercy Lilly, she spits his kisses out, and
now he offers to fumble, she falls off, (that's a good Wench)
and cries fair play above board. Who are they in the corner?
As I live, a covy of Fidlers; I shall have some Musick
yet at my making free o'th' Company of Horners;
there's the comfort, and a Song too! He beckons for one—
Sure 'tis no Anthem, nor no borrow'd Rhymes
out of the School of Vertue; I will listen—
[A Song.
This was never penn'd at Geneva, the Note's
too sprightly. So, so, the Musick's paid for, and now what
follows? O that Monsieur Miramont would but keep his
word; here were a Feast to make him fat with laughter; at
the most 'tis not six minutes riding from his house, nor will
he break, I hope—O are you come, Sir? the prey is
in the Net, and will break in upon occasion.
Mir.
Thou shalt rule me, Andrew. O th'infinite fright
that will assail this Gentleman! the Quartans, Tertians,
and Quotidians that will hang like Serjeants on his Worships
shoulders! the humiliation of the flesh of this man, this
grave, austere man will be wondred at. How will those
solemn looks appear to me; and that severe face, that speaks
chains and shackles? Now I take him in the nick, e're I
have done with him, he had better have stood between two
panes of Wainscot, and made his recantation in the Market,
than hear me conjure him.
And.
He must pass this way to th'only Bed I have; he
comes, stand close.
Bri.
Well done, well done, give me my night-cap. So.
Quick, quick, untruss me; I will truss and trounce thee.
Come, Wench, a kiss between each point; kiss close, it is
a sweet Parenthesis.
Lil.
Y'are merry, Sir.
Bri.
Merry I will be anon, and thou shalt feel it, thou
shalt, my Lilly.
Lil.
Shall I air your Bed, Sir?
Bri.
No, no; I'll use no Warming pan but thine, Girl,
that's all. Come kiss me again.
Lil.
Ha'ye done yet?
Bri.
No; but I will do, and do wonders, Lilly. Shew
me the way.
Lil.
You cannot miss it, Sir; you shall have a Cawdle in
the morning for your Worship's breakfast.
Bri.
How, i'th' morning, Lilly? th'art such a witty
thing to draw me on. Leave fooling, Lilly, I am hungry
now, and th'hast another Kickshaw, I must taste it.
Lil.
'Twill make you surfeit, I am tender of you: y'have
all y'are like to have.
And.
And can this be earnest?
Mir.
It seems so, and she honest.
Bri.
Have I not thy promise, Lilly?
Lil.
Yes, and I have performed enough to a man of your
years, this is truth; and you shall find, Sir, you have kiss'd
and tous'd me, handl'd my leg and foot; what would you
more, Sir? As for the rest, it requires youth and strength,
and the labour in an old man would breed Agues, Sciatica's,
and Cramps: You shall not curse me for taking from
you what you cannot spare, Sir. Be good unto your self,
y'have ta'ne already all you can take with ease; you are
past threshing, it is a work too boisterous for you, leave such
drudgery to Andrew.
Mir.
How she jeers him?
Lil.
Let Andrew alone with his own tillage, he's tough,
and can manure it.
Bri.
Y'are a quean, a scoffing, jeering quean.
Lil.
It may be so, but I'm sure I'll ne'r be yours.
Bri.
Do not provoke me, if thou do'st I'll have my Farm
again, and turn thee out a begging.
Lil.
Though you have the will, and want of honesty to
deny your deed, Sir; yet I hope Andrew has got so much
learning from my young Master, as to keep his own; at
the worst I'll tell a short tale to the Judges for what grave
revoke it.
Bri.
Whore, thou dar'st not. Yield, or I'll have thee
whipt: how my Bloud boils, as if 't were o're a Furnace!
Mir.
I shall cool it.
Bri.
Yet, gentle Lilly, pity and forgive me, I'll be a friend
t'ye, such a loving bountiful friend—
Lil.
To avoid Suits in Law, I would grant a little; but
should fierce Andrew know it, what would become of me?
And.
A Whore, a Whore!
Bri.
Nothing but well Wench, I shall put such a strong
Bit in his mouth, as thou shalt ride him how thou wilt, my
Lilly; nay, he shall hold the door, as I will work him, and
thank thee for the Office.
Mir.
Take heed, Andrew, these are shrewd temptations.
And.
Pray you know your Cue, and second me, Sir. By
your Worship's favour.
Bri.
Andrew!
And.
I come in time to take possession of th'Office you
assign me; hold the door! alas, 'tis nothing for a simple
man to stay without, when a deep understanding holds conference
within, say with his Wife: a trifle, Sir. I know I
hold my Farm by Cuckolds Tenure; you are Lord o'th'
Soil, Sir. Lilly is a Weft, a stray, she's yours to use, Sir,
I claim no interest in her.
Bri.
Art thou serious? speak, honest Andrew, since thou
hast o'erheard us, and wink at small faults, man; I'm but
a pidlar, a little will serve my turn; thou'lt find enough
when I've my belly full: Wilt thou be private and silent?
And.
By all means, I'll only have a Ballad made of't,
sung to some lewd Tune, and the name of it shall be Justice
Trap; it will sell rarely with your Worships name, and
Lilly's on the top.
Bri.
Seek not the ruine o' my reputation, Andrew.
And.
'Tis for your credit, Monsieur Brisac, printed in
Capital Letters, then pasted upon all the posts in Paris.
Bri.
No mercy, Andrew?
And.
O, it will proclaim you from the City to the Court,
and prove Sport Royal.
Bri.
Thou shalt keep thy Farm.
Mir.
He does afflict him rarely.
And.
You trouble me. Then his intent arriving, the
vizard of his hypocrisie pull'd of to the Judge criminal.
Bri.
O I am undone.
And.
He's put out of Commission with disgrace, and
held uncapable of bearing Office ever hereafter. This is
my revenge, and this I'll put in practice.
Bri.
Do but hear me.
And.
To bring me back from my Grammar to my Hornbook,
it is unpardonable.
Bri.
Do not play the Tyrant; accept of composition.
Lil.
Hear him, Andrew.
And.
What composition?
Bri.
I'll confirm thy Farm, and add unto it a hundred
Acres more, adjoyning to it.
And.
Umb, this mollifies; but y'are so fickle, and will
again deny this, there being no witness by.
Bri.
Call any witness, I'll presently assure it.
And.
Say you so? troth there's a friend of mine, Sir,
within hearing, that's familiar with all that's past, his testimony
will be authentical.
Bri.
Will he be secret?
And.
You may tie his tongue up, as you would do your
purse strings.
Bri.
Miramont!
Mir.
Ha ha ha!
And.
This is my witness. Lord how you are troubled!
sure you have an Ague, you shake so with choler: Here's
your loving Brother, Sir, and will tell no body but all he
meets, that you have eat a Snake, and are grown young,
gamesome, and rampant.
Bri.
Caught thus?
And.
If he were one that would make jests of you, or
plague ye, with making your Religious gravity 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, he's now past kissing, between
point and point. He swounds, fetch him some Cordial—
Now put in, Sir.
Mir.
Who may this be? sure this is some mistake: let
me see his face, wears he not a false beard? it cannot be Brisac
that worthy Gentleman, the Pillar and the Patron of his
Country; he is too prudent, and too cautelous, experience
hath taught him t'avoid these fooleries, he is the punisher,
and not the doer; besides he's old and cold, unfit for Woman:
This is some counterfeit, he shall be whipt for't,
some base abuser of my worthy Brother.
Bri.
Open the doors; will ye imprison me? are ye my
Judges?
Mir.
The man raves! this is not judicious Brisac: yet
now I think on't, h'has a kind of Dog look like my Brother,
a guilty hanging face.
Bri.
I'll suffer bravely, do your worst, do, do.
Mir.
Why, it's manly in you.
Bri.
Nor will I rail nor curse, you slave, you whore, I
will not meddle with you; but all the torments that e're
fell on men, that fed on mischief, fall heavily on you all.
[Exit.
Lil.
You have given him a heat, Sir.
Mir.
He will ride you the better, Lilly.
And.
We'll teach him to meddle with Scholars.
Mir.
He shall make good his promise t'increase thy
Farm, Andrew, or I'll jeer him to death. Fear nothing,
Lilly, I am thy Champion. This jeast goes to Charles, and
then I'll hunt him out, and Monsieur Eustace the gallant
Courtier, and laugh heartily to see 'em mourn together.
And.
'Twill be rare, Sir.
[Exeunt.
| The Elder Brother | |