_And_. 'Twill be rare, Sir. [_Exeunt_.
_ACTUS QUINTUS. SCENA PRIMA._
_Enter_ Eustace, Egremont, Cowsy.
_Eust_. Turn'd out of doors and baffled!
_Egre_. We share with you in the affront.
_Cow_. Yet bear it not like you with such dejection.
_Eust_. My Coach and Horses made the ransom of our Cowardize!
_Cow_. Pish, that's nothing, 'tis _damnum reparabile_, and soon recover'd.
_Egre_. It is but feeding a Suitor with false hopes, and after squeeze him
with a dozen of Oaths, You are new rigg'd, and this no more remembred.
_Eust_. And does the Court, that should be the Example and Oracle of the
Kingdom, read to us no other Doctrine?
_Egre_. None that thrives so well as that, within my knowledge.
_Cow_. Flattery rubs out; but since great men learn to admire themselves,
'tis something crest-faln.
_Egre_. To be of no Religion, argues a subtle, moral understanding, and it
is often cherish'd.
_Eust_. Piety then, and valour, nor to do and suffer wrong, are they no
virtues?
_Egre_. Rather vices, _Eustace_; Fighting! what's fighting? it may be in
fashion among provant swords, and Buff-jerkin men: But w'us that swim in
choice of Silks and Tissues; though in defence of that word Reputation,
which is indeed a kind of glorious nothing, to lose a dram of blood must
needs appear as coarse as to be honest.
_Eust_. And all this you seriously believe?
_Cow_. It is a faith that we will die in, since from the black Guard to
the grim Sir in Office, there are few hold other Tenets.
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