ust made thee 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 Soul, Sir.

_Lew_. I am not to be alter'd; to sit down with this disgrace, would argue
me a Peasant, and not born Noble: all rigour that the Law, and that
increase of power by favour yields, shall be with all severity inflicted;
you have the King's hand for't, no Bail will serve, and therefore at your
perils, Officers, away with 'em.

_Bri_. This is madness.

_Lew_. Tell me so in open Court, and there I'le answer you.

_Enter_ Miramont, Charles, Eustace, Andrew.

_Mir_. Well overtaken.

_Char_. Ill if they dare resist.

_Eust_. He that advances but one step forward dies.

_Lew_. Shew the King's Writ.

_Mir_. Shew your discretion, 'twill become you better.

_Char_. Y'are once more in my power, and if again 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 follows.

_Lew_. Is the King's 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 endear'd to you? rather than be cross'd
in what you purpos'd, you'll undo your Daughter's fame, the credit of your
judgment, and your old foolish Neighbour; make your Estates, and in a Suit
not worth a Cardecue, a prey to Advocates, and their buckram Scribes, and
after they have plum'd ye, return home like a couple of naked Fowles
without a feather.

_Char_. 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
ne'er come on more: Observe my learned _Charles_, he'll get thee a Nephew
on _Angellina_ shall dispute in her belly, and suck the Nurse by Logick:
and here's _Eustace_, he was an Ass, but now is grown an _Amadis_; nor
shall he want a Wife, if all my Land, for a Joynture, can effect: Y'are a
good Lord, and of a gentle nature, in your looks I see a kind consent, and
it shews lovely: and do you hear, old Fool? but I'le not chide, hereafter,
like me, ever doat on Learning, the m