The Scornful Lady Part 3

_Roger._ Most properly Sir.

_Wel._ I pray you doe so then: the whilst I will attend your Lady. You direct all this house in the true way?

_Roger._ I doe Sir.

_Wel._ And this door I hope conducts to your Lady?

_Rog._ Your understanding is ingenious. [_Ex. severally._

_Enter young_ Loveless _and_ Savil, _with a writing._

_Sa._ By your favour Sir, you shall pardon me?

_Yo. Lo._ I shall bear your favour Sir, cross me no more; I say they shall come in.

_Savil._ Sir, you forget who I am?

_Yo. Lo._ Sir, I do not; thou art my Brothers Steward, his cast off mill-money, his Kitchen Arithmetick.

_Sa._ Sir, I hope you will not make so little of me?

_Yo. Lo._ I make thee not so little as thou art: for indeed there goes no more to the making of a Steward, but a fair _Imprimis_, and then a reasonable _Item_ infus'd into him, and the thing is done.

_Sa._ Nay then you stir my duty, and I must tell you?

_Young Lo._ What wouldst thou tell me, how Hopps grow, or hold some rotten discourse of Sheep, or when our Lady-day falls? Prethee farewel, and entertain my friends, be drunk and burn thy Table-books: and my dear spark of velvet, thou and I.

_Sa._ Good Sir remember?

_Young Lo._ I do remember thee a foolish fellow, one that did put his trust in Almanacks, and Horse-fairs, and rose by Hony and Pot-b.u.t.ter.

Shall they come in yet?

_Sa_. Nay then I must unfold your Brothers pleasure, these be the lessons Sir, he left behind him.

_Young Lo_. Prethee expound the first.

_Sa_. I leave to maintain my house three hundred pounds a year; and my Brother to dispose of it.

_Young Lo_. Mark that my wicked Steward, and I dispose of it?

_Sav_. Whilest he bears himself like a Gentleman, and my credit falls not in him. Mark that my good young Sir, mark that.

_Young Lo_. Nay, if it be no more I shall fulfil it, whilst my Legs will carry me I'le bear my self Gentleman-like, but when I am drunk, let them bear me that can. Forward dear Steward.

_Sav_. Next it is my will, that he be furnished (as my Brother) with Attendance, Apparel, and the obedience of my people.

_Young Lo_. Steward this is as plain as your old Minikin-breeches. Your wisdom will relent now, will it not? Be mollified or--you understand me Sir, proceed?

_Sav_. Next, that my Steward keep his place, and power, and bound my Brother's wildness with his care.

_Young Lo_. I'le hear no more of this _Apocrypha_, bind it by it self Steward.

_Sav_. This is your Brothers will, and as I take it, he makes no mention of such company as you would draw unto you. Captains of Gallyfoists, such as in a clear day have seen _Callis_, fellows that have no more of G.o.d, than their Oaths come to: they wear swords to reach fire at a Play, and get there the oyl'd end of a Pipe, for their Guerdon: then the remnant of your Regiment, are wealthy Tobacco-Marchants, that set up with one Ounce, and break for three: together with a Forlorn hope of Poets, and all these look like Carthusians, things without linnen: Are these fit company for my Masters Brother?

_Young Lo_. I will either convert thee (O thou Pagan Steward) or presently confound thee and thy reckonings, who's there? Call in the Gentlemen.

_Sav_. Good Sir.

_Young Lo_. Nay, you shall know both who I am, and where I am.

_Sav_. Are you my Masters Brother?

_Young Lo_. Are you the sage Master Steward, with a face like an old _Ephemerides_?

_Enter his Comrades_, Captain, Traveller, &c.

_Sav_. Then G.o.d help us all I say.

_Young Lo_. I, and 'tis well said my old peer of _France_: welcome Gentlemen, welcome Gentlemen; mine own dear Lads y'are richly welcome.

Know this old _Harry_ Groat.

_Cap_. Sir I will take your love.

_Sav_. Sir, you will take my Purse.

_Cap_. And study to continue it.

_Sav_. I do believe you.

_Trav_. Your honorable friend and Masters Brother, hath given you to us for a worthy fellow, and so we hugg you Sir.

_Sav_. Has given himself into the hands of Varlets, not to be carv'd out.

Sir, are these the pieces?

_Young Lo_. They are the Morals of the Age, the vertues, men made of gold.

_Sav_. Of your gold you mean Sir.

_Young Lo_. This is a man of War, and cryes go on, and wears his colours.

_Sav_. In's nose.

_Young Lo_. In the fragrant field. This is a Traveller Sir, knows men and manners, and has plow'd up the Sea so far till both the Poles have knockt, has seen the Sun take Coach, and can distinguish the colour of his Horses, and their kinds, and had a _Flanders_-Mare leapt there.

_Sav_. 'Tis much.

_Tra_. I have seen more Sir.