thousand heads in a thousand
minutes, yet ne'er a one head worth a head of Garlick.

_Mir._ Long may they chafe, and long may we laugh at 'em; a couple of pure
Puppies yok'd together. But what sayes the young Courtier Master
_Eustace_, and his two warlike Friends?

_And._ They say but little, how much they think I know not; they look
ruefully, as if they had newly come from a vaulting-house, and had been
quite shot through 'tween wind and water by a she _Dunkirk_, and had
sprung a Leak, Sir. Certain my Master was to blame.

_Mir._ Why, _Andrew_?

_And._ To take away the Wench o'th' sudden from him, and give him no
lawful warning; he is tender, and of a young Girls constitution, Sir,
ready to get the Green sickness with conceit. Had he but ta'ne his leave
in availing Language, or bought an Elegy of his condolement, that the
world might have ta'ne notice, he had been an Ass, 't had been some
favour.

_Mir._ Thou say'st true, wise _Andrew_; but these Scholars are such
things, when they can prattle.

_And._ And very parlous things, Sir.

_Mir._ And when [they] gain the liberty to distinguish the difference
'twixt a Father and a Fool, to look below, and spie a younger Brother
pruning up, and dressing up his expectations in a rare glass of beauty,
too good for him; those dreaming Scholars then turn Tyrants, _Andrew_, and
shew no mercy.

_Mir._ The more's the pity, Sir.

_Mir._ Thou told'st me of a trick to catch my Brother, and anger him a
little farther, _Andrew_. It shall be only anger, I assure thee, and
little shame.

_And_. And I can fit you, Sir. Hark in your ear.

_Mir_. Thy Wife?

_And_. So I assure ye; this night at twelve a clock.

_Mir_. 'Tis neat and handsome; there are twenty Crowns due to thy project,
_Andrew_; I've time to visit _Charles_, and see what Lecture he reads to
his Mistris. That done, I'le not fail to be with you.

_And_. Nor I to watch my master-- [_Exeunt_.

ACTUS IV. SCENA III.

_Enter_ Angelli[n]a, Sylvia, _with a Taper_.

_Ang_. I'm worse than e'er I was; for now I fear, that that I love, that
that I only dote on; he follows me through every room I pass, and with a
strong set eye he gazes on me, as if his spark of innocence were blown
into a flame of lust. Virtue defend me. His Uncle too is absent, and 'tis
night; and what these opportunities may teach him--What fear and endless
care 'tis to be honest! to be a Maid what misery, what mischief! Would I
were rid