Pray take a piece of rosemarie. _Mir_. Ile wear it,
But for the Ladies sake, and none of yours;
May be Ile see your table too. _Bri_. Pray do, Sir.
_Ang_. A mad old Gentleman. _Bri_. Yes faith sweet daughter,
He has been thus his whole age to my knowledge,
He has made _Charles_ his heir, I know that certainly;
Then why should he grudge _Eustace_ any thing?
_Ang_. I would not have a light head, nor one laden
With too much learning, as they say, this _Charles_ is,
That makes his book his Mistress: Sure, there's something
Hid in this old mans anger, that declares him
Not a mere Sot. _Bri_. Come shall we go and seal brother?
All things are readie, and the [P]riest is here.
When _Charles_ has set his hand unto the Writings,
As he shall instantly, then to the Wedding,
And so to dinner. _Lew_. Come, let's seal the book first
For my daughters Jointure. _Bri_. Let's be private in't Sir. _Exeunt_.
_Actus III. Scaena IV_.
_Enter_ Charles, Miramont, Andrew.
_Mir_. Nay, y'are undone. _Cha_. hum. _Mira_. Ha' ye no greater feeling?
_And_. You were sensible of the great b[oo]ke, Sir,
When it fell on your head, and now the house
Is ready to fall, Do you feare nothing? _Cha_. Will
He have my bookes too? _Mir_. No, he has a book,
A faire one too to read on, and read wonders,
I would thou hadst her in thy studie Nephew,
And 'twere but to new string her. _Cha_. Yes, I saw her,
And me though[t] 'twas a curious peece of learning,
Handsomely bound, and of a daintly letter.
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