ion: your high offers, taught by the
Masters of dependencies, that by compounding differences 'tween others,
supply their own necessities, with me will never carry't: as you are my
Brother, I will dispense a little, but no more than honour can give way
to; nor must I destroy that in my self I love in you; and therefore let
not hopes or threats persuade you I will descend to any composition for
which I may be censur'd.

_Eust_. You shall fight then.

_Char_. With much unwillingness with you; but if there's no evasion--

_Eust_. None.

_Char_. Hear yet a word; as for the Sword and other fripperies, in a fair
way send for them, you shall have 'em. But rather than surrender
_Angellina_, or hear it again mention'd, I oppose my breast unto loud
thunder, cast behind me all tyes of Nature.

_Eust_. She detain'd, I'm deaf to all persuasion.

_Char_. Guard thy self then. _Eustace_; I use no other Rhetorick.

_Enter_ Miram.

_Mir_. Clashing of swords so near my house! Brother oppos'd to Brother!
here's no fencing at half sword; hold, hold, _Charles, Eustace_.

_Eust_. Second him, or call in more help. Come not between us, I'le not
know nor spare you; D'ye fight by th' book?

_Char_. 'Tis you that wrong me, off Sir, and suddenly, I'le conjure down
the Spirit that I have rais'd in him.

_Eust_. Never, _Charles_, 'tis thine, and in thy death, be doubled in me.

_Mir_. I'm out of breath, yet trust not too much to't, Boys; for if you
pause not suddenly, and hear reason, do, kill your Uncle, do; but that I'm
patient, and not a cholerick old teasty fool, like your Father, I'd dance
a matachin with you, should make you sweat your best bloud 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-metall'd blade, and I begin to
love thee heartily; give me a fighting Courtier, I'le cherish him for
example; in our Age they're not born every day.

_Char_. You of late, Sir, in me lov'd learning.

_Mir_. True, but take me w'ye, _Charles_; 'twas when young _Eustace_ wore
his heart in's breeches, and fought his Battels in Complements and
Cringes, when's understanding wav'd in a flanting Feather, and his best
contemplation look'd no further than a new fashion'd doublet; I confess
then, the lofty noise your Greek made, only pleas'd me; but now he's
turn'd an _Oliver_ and a _Rowland_, nay, the whole dozen of Peers are
bound up in him: Let me remember, when I wa