ld 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 a