_. No, brother, no, I stay yet in the Preface;
The stile's too hard for you. _Eust_. I must entreat her.
Shee's parcel of my goods. _Cha_. Shee's all when you have her.

_Ang._ Hold off your hands, unmannerly, rude Sir;
Nor I, nor what I have depend on you.

_Cha._ Do, let her alone, she gives good counsel; doe not
Trouble your selfe with Ladies, they are too light;
Let out your land, and get a provident Steward.

_Ang._ I cannot love ye, let that satisfie you;
Such vanities as you are to be laught at.

_Eust._ Nay, Then you must goe, I must claime mine owne.

_Both._ A way, a way with her. _Cha._ Let her alone,
[_She strikes off Eustace's hat_]
Pray let her alone, and take your coxcombe up:
Let me talk civilly a while with you brother.
It may be on some termes I may part with her.

_Eust._ O; is your heart come downe? what are your termes, Sir?
Put up, put up. _Cha._ This is the first and cheifest,
[_Snatches away his sword._]
Let's walk a turne; now stand off fooles, I advise ye,
Stand as far off as you would hope for mercy:
This is the first sword yet I ever handled,
And a sword's a beauteous thing to looke upon,
And if it hold, I shall so hunt your insolence:
Tis sharp I'm sure, and if I put it home,
Tis ten to one I shall new pink your Sattins:
I find I have spirit enough to dispose of it,
And will enough to make ye all examples;
Let me tosse it round, I have the full command on't:
Fetch me a native Fencer, I defie him;
I feele the fire of ten strong spirits in me.
Doe you watch me when my Uncle is absent?
This is my griefe, I shall be flesht on Cowards;
Teach me to fight, I willing am to learne.
Are ye all gilded flies, nothing but shew in ye?
Why stand ye gaping? who now touches her?
Who calls her his, or who dares name her to me?
But name her as his owne; who dares look on her?
That shall be mortal too; but think, 'tis dangerous.
Art thou a fit man to inherit land,
And hast no wit nor spirit to maintaine it?
Stand still thou signe of man, and pray for thy friends,
Pray heartilie, good prayers may restore ye.

_Ang._ But doe not kill 'em Sir. _Cha._ You speak too late, Deare,
It is my first fight, and I must doe bravely,
I must not looke with partial eyes on any;
I cannot spare a button of these Gentlemen;
Did life lye in their heel _Achilles_ like,
Ide shoot my anger at those parts and kill 'um.
Who waits within? _Ser._ Sir. _Cha._ View all these, view 'em well
Goe rou