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Exit.
Ierk.
What accident brought you two together?

Artl.
The mercie of my Starres: but what event
Their influence will direct, I cannot prophesie.
Prethee be carefull, hee's a Cynick noter
Of men and of their manners

Ierk.
If he bite,
Here's that shall blunt his fangs.

Artl.
Good friend be milde;
Temper thy passions here. Scandall may grow
From low foundations to an heighth of infamy.
Thou know'st my temperance doth not oft frequent
These publique places.

Y. Wor.
Sir, the relation 'twixt a son and father
May make you jealous of my partiall nature.
Trust me, I never yet was so indulgent
To mine owne weaknesse, that untill my judgement
Had made a full distinguishment of causes,
I could bee violent in his defence
Farther then filiall dutie; which sometimes
Hath stretcht it selfe to counsell and advice
Against suspition. For though your wild behaviour
In some particular actions might provoke him,
Shee whom new dutie makes me now call mother
Hath given large testimonie of her vertue
Even to satisfaction of all goodnesse;
Although his age (in other things judicious)
Cannot so easily admit beliefe,
And safer confidence.

Ierk.
Though I appeare
In outward carriage apt to make distrust
Condemne me vicious; yet my Soule retaines
(Besides a generous disposition
Deriv'd from noble blood) some scrupulous sparkes
Of better conscience. Call it not selfe-flattery

In that I am mine owne defenses instrument.
Report sufficiently may informe your knowledge,
(Nor is it error) that my interest
In her you now call Mother
Was beyond all dispute: our equall loves
Mov'd in one circle; and our thoughts were fixt;
Nor can I varie; shee's the object still
Of my desires. I confesse I use
Wanton sollicites; and should scarse resist
My wishes satisfaction she consenting.
But those delights would end in such a loathing,
That I should never more have mercifull thought
There can be any goodnesse left in Woman.

Y. W.
This jarres upon my heart-strings.

Ierk.
Dos't distast you Sir,
That I defend my selfe?

Y. W.
You must not wrong my Father.

Ierk.
I doe abhor the thought of injurie.
Nor shall my spirit fall in the just plea
Of mine owne right.

Y. W.
But not to wrong my Father.

Ieffr.

If he bee abusive, Cousin challenge him. I'le bee
your second.

Ierk.
Hee's not a Crane Coz.

Ieffr.
Nor I a Pigmie; you mock my love.

Ierk.
Your forwardnesse is dangerous.

Ieffr.
Why, he can never have wit, that is not valiant.
I'le trie him my selfe, if not to disturb you Sir.

Y. W.
I thanke you little one.

Ieffr.
How little one! Is not that an affront Cousin?

Ierk.
'Tis as you take it Coz.

Artl.
Fill some Wine boy: never a Drawer here?

Enter Dasher.
Dash.

What Gentlemen moue to attend you? (whooh)
An unlook'd for happinesse that my unworthy selfe is
prefer'd.

Y. W.
An inferiour servant may serve, Mr. Dasher.

Dash.

I am the servant of my servant that shall serve
you. And unlesse hee serve you he is not my servant. I'le
tunre them all away presently for this neglect of your
worthy Persons.

Exit.
Ieffr.

Men weare swords Sir.

Y. W.

And boyes too sometimes.

Ieffr.

You'l answer it?

Y. W.

Answer what Child?

Ieffr.

Little one! Boy! Child! I shall bee degraded
next to an infant.

Ierker.

Fie Cousin, containe. The Gentleman cannot
brooke it.

Y. W.

Yes Sir, hee can brooke any thing but wronging
of his Father.

Artl.
I pray no more, the subject is too harsh
To make good musicke in societie.

Ierk.
Then here's a health to her that best deserves
The attribute of Faire: whose white and red
Prove what's lifes mixture. From whose forms exactnes
Rules of Proportion might be better drawne
Then from Arts Principles. To her whose Youth
Warmes Winters icie bosome with her Spring;
Yet will not wrong your Father. As it goes round,
Each give his Mistris some commending Character.

Artl.
Why then a health to her whose beauties are
Not a grosse Earth, with painted superficies;
But a more sprightly Element of pure Fire.
Within whose Sphære a glorious Minde doth move
All th'orbes of vertue with celestiall flame
Whose active climbings carry her desires
To th'utmost height of noblenesse and honour:
To her that calls you Brother.

Y. W.
Let not your love appeare so full of flattery.

Ierk.
Nay, Coz; 'tis yours.

Jeffr.
Then here's a health to her will freely put

Her sweets to use. Kisse, and be kist againe
Without a fie. Whose boldnesse will not blush
At an assault, or any wanton touch.
And if a man persist to farther doing,
Accounts it losse of time, a tedious wooing.
To her that I call Mistris.

Y. W.
Bravely come off Sir.

Ieffr.
I can come on Sir.

Artl.
Now Sir, 'tis yours.

Y. W.
This Sack shall then have my Encomium
Which had the youthfull Father ever tasted,
He would have left his rites to Poetize;
And chang'd his Yvy Chaplets into Bayes:
Vnchain'd his spotted Linxes, and supply'd
His Chariots loftier course with Pegasus.
And with bewitching numbers charm'd the gods
To be his Bacchanalls, that they might feast
With this most heavenly Nectar.

Enter Dasher.
Ierk.
Mr. Dasher, your Wine is highly commended.

Dash.

I can assure you Gentlemen, the Grape from
whence this Sacke was prest—

Y. W.
Grew in Spaine.

Dash.

I would have fetcht it farther Gentlemen to doe
you service. A voyage to the Indies should bee no more
then a descending into my cellar, and up agen.

Art.

You have handsomely contracted your journey.

Ierk.

But Mr. Dasher, you have an eminent House, extraordinary
Wine and entertainment; but no Signe at first
to distinguish it.

Ieffr.

Me thoughts Cousin, the Logger-heads was a
pretty conceit.

Ierk.

Had there not beene a third.

Dash.

Gentlemen, I intended a paire of Scales with a
glasse of Wine in one Ballance, and a piece of gold in the
other, or a jewell.

Y. Wor.

An excellent conceit, to shew the value of
good Wine.

Dash.

Sweet Gentlemen, I am the servant of your noble
wits. I must kisse the faire hand of an honourable Lord,
who is now departing: I will then returne to be dispos'd
by you.

Exit.