_Cha._ You of late Sir,
In me lov'd learning. _Mir._ True, but take me w'ye, _Charles_,
'Twas when yong _Eustace_ wore his heart in's breeches,
And fought his battailes in Complements and Cringes,
When's understanding wav'd in a flaunting feather,
And his best contemplation look'd no further
Than a new-fashion'd doublet, I confess then
The lofty noise your Greek made onely pleas'd me;
But now hee's turn'd an _Oliver_ and a _Rowland_,
Nay the whole dozen of peeres are bound up in him:
Let me remember, when I was of his yeeres,
I did looke very like him; and did you see
My picture as I was then, you would sweare
That gallant _Eustace_ (I meane, now he dares fight)
Was the true substance and the perfect figure.
Nay, nay, no anger, you shall have enough _Charles_.
_Cha._ Sure Sir, I shall not need addition from him.
_Eust._ Nor I from any, this shall decide my interest,
Though I am lost to all deserving men,
To all that men call good, for suffering tamely
Insufferable wrongs, and justly slighted
By yeelding to a minute of delay
In my revenge, and from that made a stranger
Unto my fathers house and favour, orewhelm'd
With all disgraces, yet I will mount upward,
And force my selfe a fortune, though my birth
And breeding doe deny it. _Cha._ Seek not _Eustace_,
By violence, what will be offerd to you
On easier composition; though I was not
Allied unto your weakness, you shall find me
A brother to your bravery of spirit,
And one that not compell'd to't by your sword,
(Which I must never feare) will share it with you
In all but _Angellina_.
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