Chapter 11

_Eust._ O much, Sir, here I end not, but begin; I must speak to you in another straine, Than yet I ever us'd, and if the language Appeare in the delivery rough and harsh, You (being my Tutor) must condemne your selfe, From whom I learn'd it. _Cha._ When I understand (Bee't in what stile you please) what's your demand, I shall endeavour in the self same phrase To make an answer to the point. _Eust._ I come not To lay claime to your birthright, 'tis your owne, And 'tis fit you enjoy it, nor ask I from you Your learning and deepe knowledge; (though I am not A Schollar as you are) I know them Diamonds By your sole industry, patience and labour Forc'd from steepe rocks, and with much toile attended, And but to few that prize their value granted, And therefore without rival freely weare them.

_Cha._ These not repin'd at (as you seeme t'informe me) The motion must be of a strange condition, If I refuse to yeeld to't; therefore _Eustace_, Without this tempest in your lookes propound it, And feare not a denial. _Eust._ I require then, (As from an enemy, and not a brother) The reputation of a man of honour, Not by a faire war wonne when I was waking, But in my sleepe of folly ravish'd from me; With these, the restitution of my sword, With large acknowledgement of satisfaction, My Coach, my Horses; I will part with life, Ere lose one haire of them, and what concludes all, My Mistress _Angellina_, as she was Before the Musical Magick of thy tongue Inchanted and seduc'd her. These perform'd, And with submission, and done publiquely, At my fathers and my Uncles intercession, (That I put in too) I perhaps may listen To termes of reconcilement; but if these In every circumstance are not subscrib'd to, To th' last gasp I defie thee. _Cha._ These are strict Conditions to a brother. _Eust._ My rest is up, Nor will I give less. _Cha._ I'me no Gamester, _Eustace_, Yet I can guesse your resolution stands To win or loose all; I rejoyce to find ye Thus tender of your honour, and that at length You understand what a wretched thing you were, How deeply wounded by your selfe, and made Almost incurable, in your owne hopes, The dead flesh of pale cowardise growing over Your festred reputation, which no balme 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 plung'd in, in teaching you, And by a faire gradation, how far[r]e, And with what curious respect and care The peace and credit of a man within, (Which you nere thought till now) should be preferr'd Before a gawdy outside; pray you fix here, For so farre I go with you. _Eust._ This discourse Is from the subject. _Cha._ Ile come to it brother, But if you think to build upon my ruines, You'l find a false foundation your high offers Taught by the Masters of dependancies, That by compounding differences 'tween others Supply their owne necessities, with me Will never carry't; As you are my brother, I would dispence a little, but no more Than honour can give way to; nor must I Destroy that in my selfe I love in you; And therefore let not hopes nor threats perswade you I will descend to any composition For which I may be censur'd. _Eust._ You shall fight then.

_Cha._ With much unwillingness with you, but if There's no evasion-- _Eust._ None. _Cha._ Heare yet a word As for the sword and other fripperies, In a faire way send for them, you shall have 'em. But rather than surrender _Angellina_, Or heare it againe mention'd, I oppose My breast unto lowd thunder, cast behinde me All ties of Nature. _Eust._ She detain'd, I'me deafe To all perswasion. _Cha._ Guard thy selfe then _Eustace_, I use no other Rhetorick. _Mir._ Clashing of swords [_Enter Miram._] So neere my house? brother oppos'd to brother! Here is no fencing at halfe sword; hold, hold, _Charles, Eustace_. _Eust._ Second him, or call in more helpe. Come not betweene us, Ile not know nor spare you; D'ye fight by th' booke? _Cha._ Tis you that wrong me, off Sir, And suddenly, Ile conjure down the Spirit That I have raised in him. _Eust._ Never, _Charles_, Tis thine, and in thy death, be doubled in me.

_Mir._ I'me out of breath, yet trust not too much to't boyes, For if you pawse not suddenly, and heare reason, Doe, kill your Uncle, doe, but that I'me patient, And not a cholerick old teasty foole, Like your father, Ide daunce a matachin with you, Should make you sweat your best blood for't; I would, And it may be I will, _Charles_ I command thee, And _Eustace_ I entreat thee, th'art a brave Spark, A true tough-metal'd blade, and I begin To love thee heartily, give me a fighting Courtier, Ile cherish him for example; in our age Th'are not born every day. _Cha._ You of late Sir, In me lov'd learning. _Mir._ True, but take me w'ye, _Charles_, 'Twas when yong _Eustace_ wore his heart in's breeches, And fought his battailes in Complements and Cringes, When's understanding wav'd 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 onely pleas'd me; But now hee's turn'd an _Oliver_ and a _Rowland_, Nay the whole dozen of peeres are bound up in him: Let me remember, when I was of his yeeres, I did looke very like him; and did you see My picture as I was then, you would sweare That gallant _Eustace_ (I meane, now he dares fight) Was the true substance and the perfect figure. Nay, nay, no anger, you shall have enough _Charles_.

_Cha._ Sure Sir, I shall not need addition from him.

_Eust._ Nor I from any, this shall decide my interest, Though I am lost to all deserving men, To all that men call good, for suffering tamely Insufferable wrongs, and justly slighted By yeelding to a minute of delay In my revenge, and from that made a stranger Unto my fathers house and favour, orewhelm'd With all disgraces, yet I will mount upward, And force my selfe a fortune, though my birth And breeding doe deny it. _Cha._ Seek not _Eustace_, By violence, what will be offerd 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 feare) will share it with you In all but _Angellina_. _Mir._ Nobly said _Charles_, And learne from my experience, you may heare reason And never maime your fighting; for your credit Which you think you have lost, spare, _Charles_, and swinge me, And soundly; three or foure walking cloakes That weare no swords to guard 'em, yet deserve it, Thou art made up againe. _Eust._ All this is lip-salve.

_Mir._ It shall be Hearts-ease, _Eustace_, ere I've done; As for thy fathers anger, now thou dar'st fight, Nere feare't, for I've the dowcets of his gravity Fast in a string, I will so pinch and wring him, That spight of his authority, thou shalt make Thine owne conditions with him. _Eust._ Ile take leave A little to consider. _Cha._ Here comes _Andrew_.

_Mir._ But without his Comical and learned face; What sad disaster, _Andrew_? _And._ You may read Sir, A Tragedy in my face. _Mir._ Art thou in earnest?

_And._ Yes, by my life Sir, and if now you help not, And speedily, by force or by persuasion, My good old Master (for now I pitie him) is Ruin'd for ever. _Cha._ Ha, my father! _And._ He Sir.

_Mir._ By what meanes? speake. _And._ At the suit of Monsieur _Lewis_ His house is seiz'd upon, and he in person Is under guard, (I saw it with these eyes Sir) To be convey'd to _Paris_, and there sentenc'd.

_Mir._ Nay, then there is no jesting. _Cha._ Doe I live, And know my father injur'd? _And._ And what's worse Sir, My Lady _Angellina_-- _Eust._ What of her?

_And._ Shee's carryed away too. _Mir._ How? _And._ While you were absent, A crew of Monsieur _Lewis_ friends and kinsmen By force break in at th' back part of the house, And took her away by violence; faithful _Andrew_, (As this can witness for him) did his best, In her defence, but 'twould not doe. _Mir._ Away, And see our horses sadled, 'tis no time To talke, but doe: _Eustace_, you now are offer'd A spatious field, and in a pious war To exercise you[r] valour, here's a cause, And such a one, in which to fall is honourable, Your duty and reverence due to a fathers name Commanding it; but these unnatural jarres Arising betweene brothers (should you prosper) Would shame your victorie. _Eust._ I would doe much Sir, But still my reputation! _Mir._ _Charles_ shall give you All decent satisfaction; nay joyne hands, And heartily; why this is done like brothers; And old as I am, in this cause that concerns The honour of our family, Monsieur _Lewis_ (If reason cannot work) shall find and feele There's hot blood in this arme, Ile lead you bravely.

_Eust._ And if I follow not, a Cowards name Be branded on my forehead. _Cha._ This Spirit makes you A sharer in my fortunes. _Mir._ And in mine, Of which (_Brisac_ once freed, and _Angellina_ Again in our possession) you shall know My heart speakes in my tongue. _Eust._ I dare not doubt it, Sir. _Exeunt._

_Actus V. Scaena II._

_Enter_ Lewis, Brisac, Angellina, Sylvia, _Officers._

_Lew._ I'me deafe to all perswasions. _Bri._ I use none, Nor doubt I, though a while my innocence suffers, But when the King shall understand how false Your malice hath inform'd him, he in justice Must set me right againe. _Ang._ Sir, let not passion So far[r]e transport you as to think in reason, This violent course repaires, but ruins it; That honour you would build up, you destroy; What you would seeme to nourish, if respect Of my preferment or my patern May challenge your paternal love and care, Why doe you, now good fortune has provided A better husband for me than your hopes Could ever fancy, strive to robb me of him? In what is my Lord _Charles_ defective Sir? Unless deep learning be a blemish in him, Or well proportion'd limbs be mulcts in Nature, Or what you onely aim'd at, large revenewes Are on the sudden growne distastful to you, Of what can you accuse him? _Lew._ Of a rape Done to honour, which thy ravenous lust Made the 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 soule Sir.

_Lew._ I am not to be alter'd; to sit downe With this disgrace, would argue me a Peasant, And not borne noble: all rigour that the Law And that encrease of power by favour yeelds, Shall be with all severity inflicted; You have the Kings hand for't; no Bayle will serve, And therefore at your perils Officers, away with 'em.

_Bri._ This is madness. _Lew._ Tell me so in open Court, And there Ile answer you. _Mir._ Well overtaken;

[_Enter Mir. Char. Eust. Andrew._]

_Cha._ Ill if they dare resist. _Eust._ He that advances But one step forward dies. _L._ Shew the King's Writ.

_Mir._ Shew your discretion, 'twil become you better.

_Cha._ Y'are once more in my power, and if againe I part with you, let me for ever lose thee.

_Eust._ Force will not do't nor threats; accept this service From your despair'd of _Eustace_. _And._ And beware Your reverend Worship never more attempt To search my _Lilly-pot_, you see what followes.

_Lew._ Is the Kings power contemn'd? _Mir._ No, but the torrent O' 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 indear'd to you? rather than Be cross'd in what you purpos'd, you'l undoe Your daughters fame, the credit of your judgement, And your old foolish neighbour; make your states, And in a suite not worth a Cardecue, A prey to advocates, and their buckram Scribes, And after they have plum'd ye, returne home Like a couple of naked Fowles without a feather.

_Cha._ 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 nere come on more: Observe my learned _Charles_, hee'l get thee a Nephew On _Angellina_ shall dispute in her belly, And suck the Nurse by Logick: and here's _Eustace_, He was an asse, but now is grown an _Amadis_; Nor shall he want a Wife, if all my land For a joynture can effect it: Y'are a good Lord, And of a gentle nature, in your lookes I see a kinde consent, and it shewes lovely: And doe you heare old Foole? but Ile not chide, Hereafter like me, ever doate on learning, The meere beleefe is excellent, 'twill save you; And next love valour, though you dare not fight Your selfe, or fright a foolish Officer, 'young _Eustace_ Can doe it to a haire. And to conclude, Let _Andrew's_ Farm b'encreas'd, that is your penance, You know for what, and see you rut no more, You understand me, So embrace on all sides; Ile pay those Billmen, and make large amends; Provided we preserve you still our friends.-- _Exeunt._

[_A few misprints in the above have been corrected in square brackets to agree with_ B.]

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