Send you joy, Nephew _Eustace_, if you studie the Law,
Keep your great pippin-pies, they'l goe far with ye.
_Cha._ Ide have your blessing. _Bri._ No, no, meet me no more,
Farewell, thou wilt blast mine eyes else. _Cha._ I will not.
_Lew._ Nor send not you for Gownes. _Ang._ Ile weare course flannel first.
_Bri._ Come let's goe take some counsel. _Lew._ Tis too late.
_Bri._ Then stay and dine, It may be we shall vexe 'em. _Exeunt._
_Actus 4. Scaena 1._
_Enter_ Brisac, Eustace, Egremont, Cowsy.
Nere talke to me, you are no men but Masquers,
Shapes, shadowes, and the signes of men, Court bubbles,
That every breath or breakes or blowes away,
You have no soules, no metal in your bloods,
No heat to stir ye when ye have occasion,
Frozen dull things that must be turn'd with leavers;
Are you the Courtiers and the travail'd Gallants?
The spritely fellowes, that the people talk of?
Ye have no more Spirit than three sleepy sops.
_Eust._ What would ye have me doe, Sir? _Bri._ Follow your brother,
And get ye out of doores, and seeke your fortune,
Stand still becalm'd, and let an aged Dotard,
A haire-brain'd puppie, and a bookish boy,
That never knew a blade above a penknife,
And how to cut his meat in Characters,
Crosse my designe, and take thine owne Wench from thee,
In mine owne house too? Thou dispis'd poore fellow!
_Eust._ The reverence that I ever bare to you Sir,
Then to my Uncle, with whom't had been but sawcinesse
T'have been so rough-- _Egre.
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