d add unto't an hundred acres more
Adjoyning to it. _And._ Umb, This mollifies,
But y'are so fickle: and will again denie this,
There being no witness by. _Bri._ Call any witness,
Ile presently assure it. _And._ Say you so,
Troth there's a friend of mine Sir, within hearing,
That is familiar with all that's past,
His testimonie will be authentical.

_Bri._ will he be secret? _And._ You may tye his tongue up.
As you would doe your purse-strings. _Br._ _Miramont. M._ Ha, Ha, Ha.

_And._ this is my witness. Lord how you are troubled?
Sure, y'have an ague, you shake so with choler;
Hee's your loving brother Sir, and will tell no bodie
But all he meets, that you have eate a snake,
And are grown young, gamesom, and rampant. _Bri._ Caught thus?

_And._ If he were one that would make jests of you,
Or plague ye with making your religious gravitie
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,
Hee's now past kissing, between point and point.
He swounds, fetch him some Cordiall--Now put in Sir.

_Mir._ Who may this be? sure this is some mistake:
Let me see his face, weares he not a false beard?
It cannot be _Brisac_ that worthie Gentleman,
The pillar and the patron of his Countrie;
He is too prudent and too cautelous,
Experience hath taught him t'avoid these fooleries,
He is the punisher and not the doer,
Besides hee's old and cold, unfit for woman;
This is some Counterfeit, he shall be whipt for't,
Some base abuser of my worthie brother.

_Bri._ Open the doores, will ye'imprison me? are ye my Judges?

_Mir._ The man raves! This is not judicious _Brisac_:
Yet now I think on't, a' has a kinde of dog looke
Like my brother, a guiltie hanging face.

_Bri._ Ile suffer bravely, doe your worst, doe, doe.

_Mir._ Why, it's manly in you. _Bri._ Nor will I raile nor curse,
You slave, you whore, I will not meddle with you,
But all the torments that ere fell on men,
That fed on mischiefe, fall heavily on you all. _Exit._

_Lil._ You have giv'n him a heat, Sir. _Mir._ He will ride you
The better, Lil. _And._ Wee'l teach him to meddle with Scholars.

_Mir._ he shall make good his promise t'increase thy Farm, _Andrew_
Or Ile jeere him to death, feare nothing _Lilly_,
I am thy Champion. This jeast goes to _Charles_,
And then Ile hunt him out, and Monsieur _Eustace_
The gallant Courtier, and laugh h