Many have got one horse, I've got foure by th' bargaine.
_Enter_ Miramont.
_Mi._ How Now, who's here. _Ser_. Nay Now, y'are gon without bail.
_Mir_. What, drawne my friends! Fetch me my two-hand sword;
I will not leave a head on your shoulders, Wretches.
_Eust_. In troth Sir, I came but to doe my dutie.
_Both_. And we to renew our loves. _Mir_. Bring me a blanket.
What came they for? _Ang_. To borrow me a while, Sir;
But one that never fought yet has so curried,
So bastina[d]o'd them with manly carriage,
They stand like things _Gorgon_ had turn'd to stone;
They watch'd your being absent, and then thought
They might doe wonders here, and they have done so?
For by my troth, I wonder at their coldness,
The nipping North or frost never came neere them,
St. _George_ upon a Signe would grow more sensible:
If the name of honour were for ever to be lost,
These were the most sufficient men to doe it
In all the world, and yet they are but young,
What will they rise to? They're as full of fire
As a frozen Glo-wormes ratle, and shine as goodly;
Nobilitie and patience are match'd rarely
In these three Gentlemen, they have right use on't;
They'l stand still for an houre and be beaten.
These are the Anagrammes of three great Worthies.
_Mir_. They will infect my house with cowardize,
If they breathe longer in it; my roofe covers
No baffl'd Monsieurs, walk and aire your selves;
As I live, they stay not here, while liver'd wretches
Without one word to ask a reason why,
Vanish, 'tis the last warning, and with speed,
For if I take ye in hand I shall dissect you,
And read upon your flegmatick dull carcases.
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