_Mir_. Nobly said, _Charles_, and learn from my experience, you may hear
reason, and never maim your fighting; for your credit, which you think you
have lost, spare _Charles_, and swinge me, and soundly; three or four
walking velvet Cloaks, that wear no swords to guard 'em, yet deserve it,
thou art made up again.
_Eust_. All this is Lip-salve.
_Mir_. It shall be Hearts-ease, _Eustace_, ere I have done; as for thy
Father's anger, now thou dar'st fight, ne'er fear it, for I've the dowcets
of his gravity fast in a string, I will so pinch and wring him, that,
spight of his authority, thou shalt make thine own conditions with him.
_Eust_. I'le take leave a little to consider.
_Char_. Here comes _Andrew_.
_Mir_. But without his comical and learned face; what sad disaster,
_Andrew_?
_And_. You m[a]y read, Sir, a Tragedy in my face.
_Mir_. Art thou in earnest?
_And_. Yes, by my life, Sir; and if now you help not, and speedily, by
force, or by persuasion, my good old Master (for now I pity him) is ruin'd
for ever.
_Char_. Ha, my Father!
_And_. He, Sir.
_Mir_. By what means? speak.
_And_. At the suit of Monsieur _Lewis_; his house is seiz'd upon, and he
in person is under guard, (I saw it with these eyes, Sir) to be convey'd
to _Paris_, and there Sentenc'd.
_Mir_. Nay, then there is no jesting.
_Char_. Do I live, and know my Father injur'd?
_And_. And what's worse, Sir, my Ladie _Angellina_--
_Eust_.
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