nor your black Patches you wear
variously, some cut like Stars, some in Half-moons, some Lozenges, (all
which but shew you still a younger Brother.)

_Mir._ Gramercy, Wench, thou hast a noble Soul too.

_Ang._ Nor your long travels, nor your little knowledge, can make me doat
upon you. Faith go study, and glean some goodness, that you may shew
manly; your Brother at my suit I'm sure will teach you; or only study how
to get a Wife, Sir. Y'are cast far behind, 'tis good you should be
melancholy, it shews like a Gamester that had lost his mony; and 'tis the
fashion to wear your arm in a skarf, Sir, for [you] have had a shrewd cut
o'er the fingers.

_Lew._ But are y'in earnest?

_Ang._ Yes, believe me, Father, you shall ne'er choose for me; y'are old
and dim, Sir, and th' shadow of the earth Eclips'd your judgment. Y'have
had your time without control, dear Father, and you must give me leave to
take mine now, Sir.

_Bri._ This is the last time of asking, will you set your hand to?

_Cha._ This is the last time of answering, I will never.

_Bri._ Out of my doors.

_Char._ Most willingly.

_Mir._ He shall, Jew, thou of the Tribe of _Man-y-asses_, Coxcomb, and
never trouble thee more till thy chops be cold, fool.

_Ang._ Must I be gone too?

_Lew._ I will never know thee.

_Ang._ Then this man will; what Fortune he shall run, Father, be't good or
bad, I must partake it with him.

_Enter_ Egremont.

_Egre._ When shall the Masque begin?

_Eust._ 'Tis done already; all, all is broken off, I am undone, Friend, my
Brother's wise again, and has spoil'd all, will not release the Land, has
won the Wench too.

_Egre._ Could he not stay till the Masque was past? w'are ready. What a
scurvy trick's this?

_Mir._ O you may vanish, perform it at some Hall, where the Citizens Wives
may see't for Six-pence a piece, and a cold Supper. Come, let's go,
_Charles_. And now, my noble Daughter, I'le sell the Tiles of my House,
e're thou shalt want, Wench. Rate up your Dinner, Sir, and sell it cheap:
some younger Brother will take't up in Commodities. Send you joy, Nephew
_Eustace_; if you study the Law, keep your great Pippin-pies, they'll go
far with ye.

_Char._ I'd have your blessing.

_Bri._ No, no, meet me no more. Farewel, thou wilt blast mine eyes else.

_Char._ I will not.

_Lew._ Nor send not you for Gowns.

_Ang._ I'll wear course Flannel first.

_Bri._ Come, let's go take some counsel.

_Lew._ 'Tis too lat