e turn'd with leavers;
Are you the Courtiers and the travail'd Gallants?
The spritely fellowes, that the people talk of?
Ye have no more Spirit than three sleepy sops.

_Eust._ What would ye have me doe, Sir? _Bri._ Follow your brother,
And get ye out of doores, and seeke your fortune,
Stand still becalm'd, and let an aged Dotard,
A haire-brain'd puppie, and a bookish boy,
That never knew a blade above a penknife,
And how to cut his meat in Characters,
Crosse my designe, and take thine owne Wench from thee,
In mine owne house too? Thou dispis'd poore fellow!

_Eust._ The reverence that I ever bare to you Sir,
Then to my Uncle, with whom't had been but sawcinesse
T'have been so rough-- _Egre._ And we not seeing him
Strive in his owne cause, that was principal,
And should have led us on, thought it ill manners
To begin a quarrel here. _Bri._ You dare doe nothing.
Doe you make your care the excuse of your cowardlinesse?
Three boyes on hobbie-horses with three penny halberts,
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._ Ile make my way;
And therefore quickly leave me, or Ile force you;
And having first torne off your flaunting feathers,
Ile tramble on 'em; and if that cannot teach you
To quit my house, Ile kick ye out of my gates;
You gawdie glow-wormes carrying seeming fire,
Yet have no heat within ye. _Cow._ O blest travaile!
How much we owe thee for our power to suffer?

_Egre._ Some spleenative youths now that had never seen
More than thy Countrie 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 thankes for our injuries, if we purpose
To hold our places. _Bri._ Will you find the doore?
And finde it suddenlie, you shall lead the way, Sir,
With your perfum'd retinew, and cover
The now lost _Angellina_, or build on it,
I will adopt some beggers doubtful issue
Before thou shall inherit. _Eust._ Wee'l to councel,
And what may be done by mans wit or valour
Wee'l put in execution. _Bri._ Doe, or never
Hope I shall know thee. _Le._ O Sir, have I found you? [_Exeunt._
_Ent. Lewis._

_Bri._ I never hid my selfe, whence flows this fury?
With which as it appeares, you come to fright me.

_Lew._ I smell a plot, meere conspiracy
Among ye all to defeate me of my daughter,
And if she be not suddenly delivered,