st is flat else.

_Mir_. I am not come for your welcome, I expect none;
I bring no joyes to blesse the bed withal;
Nor songs, nor Masques to glorifie the Nuptials,
I bring an angrie mind to see your folly,
A sharp one too, to reprehend you for it.

_Bri_. You'l stay and dine though? _Mir_. All your meat smells mustie,
Your table will shew nothing to content me.

_Bri_. Ile answer you, here's good meat. _Mira_. But your sawce is
scurvie;
It is not season'd with the sharpness of discretion.

_Eust_. It seems your anger is at me, dear Uncle.

_Mir_. Thou art not worth my anger, th'art a boy,
A lump o' thy fathers lightness, made of nothing
But antick cloaths and cringes; look in thy head,
And 'twill appear a footbal full of fumes
And rotten smoke; Ladie, I pitie you;
You are a handsome and a sweet young Ladie,
And ought to have a handsome man yoak'd t'ye,
An understanding too; this is a Gincrack,
That ca[n] get nothing but new fashions on you;
For say he have a thing shap'd like a child,
'Twill either prove a tumbler or a tailor.

_Eust_. These are but harsh words Uncle. _Mir_. So I mean 'em.
Sir, you play harsher play w' your elder brother.

_Eust_. I would be loth to give you. _Mi_. Do not venter,
Ile make your wedding cloaths fit closer t'ee then;
I but disturb you, lie go see my nephew:

_Lew_. Pray take a piece of rosemarie. _Mir_. Ile wear it,
But for the Ladies sake, and none of yours;
May be Ile see your table too. _Bri_. Pray do, Sir.

_Ang_. A mad old Gentleman. _Bri_. Yes faith sweet daughter,
He has been thus his whole age to my knowledge,
He has made _Charles_ his heir, I know that certainly;
Then why should he grudge _Eustace_ any thing?

_Ang_. I would not have a light head, nor one laden
With too much learning, as they say, this _Charles_ is,
That makes his book his Mistress: Sure, there's something
Hid in this old mans anger, that declares him
Not a mere Sot. _Bri_. Come shall we go and seal brother?
All things are readie, and the [P]riest is here.
When _Charles_ has set his hand unto the Writings,
As he shall instantly, then to the Wedding,
And so to dinner. _Lew_. Come, let's seal the book first
For my daughters Jointure. _Bri_. Let's be private in't Sir. _Exeunt_.

_Actus III. Scaena IV_.

_Enter_ Charles, Miramont, Andrew.

_Mir_. Nay, y'are undone. _Cha_. hum. _Mira_. Ha' ye no greater feeling?

_And_. You were sensible of the great b[oo]ke, Sir,
Wh