_Cap_. Tis more then thou hast been this twelvemonth: th'ast Lost thy Complexion with too much study. Why, thou shalt be an heire and rule the rost Of halfe a shire, and thy father would but Dye once; Come to the Sizes with a band of Janisaries To equall the Grand Signor, all thy tenants, That shall at their owne charge make themselves fine And march like Cavaliers with tilting feathers, Gaudy as _Agamemnons_[237] in the play: After whome thou, like _St. George_ a horseback Or the high Sheriff, shall make the Cuntrey people Fall downe in adoration of thy Crooper And silver stirrup, my right worshipfull. A pox a buckram and the baggage in't! Papers defil'd with Court hand and long dashes, Or Secretarie lines that stradle more Then _Frenchmen_ and lesse wholsome to the Client. Is thy head to be fild with Proclamations, Rejoynders and hard words beyond the _Alchemist_[238]? Be ruld, and live like a fine gentleman That may have haukes and hounds and whores and horses, And then thou art fitt Companie. _Cou_. You talke wildlie; I wou'd you saw your Errour that place all Your happinesse upon such course delights. I should degenerate too much and forfet My education. _Cap_. Education! he has gott a tune: I doe not thinke but thou wilt leave thy law And exercise thy talent in composeing Some treatises against long haire and drinking That most unchristian weed yclipt tobacco; Preach to the puisnes[239] of the Inne sobrietie, And abstinence from shaveing of lewd Baylies That will come shortlie to your Chamber doores And there with reverence entreat your worships Come forth and be arrested,--precious tappoles! I wo'd not willingly despaire of thee, For thy Lands sake and cause I am thy Countreyman. One generous Vagarie, and thou wer't wise, Would breake somebodies hart within a sennight, And then th'art Lord of all. Have but the grace To dine wo' mee at taverne and ile tell Thy friends there is some hope. _Cou_. My friends? _Cap_. Thy father's In _Essex_: if he live heele purchase _Romford_; If he die sooner then the towne's our owne; Spend but an acre a day and thou maist live Till all the world be wearie of thee. Betweene Us two, what thincke you of a wench? _Cou_. Nothing. _Cap_. You meane one wench betweene us two is nothing. I know a hundred Leverets[240], things that will Bound like a dancer on the rope and kiss thee Into thy naturall complexion: A sinner that shall clime thee like a squirrell. _Cou_. And crack me like a Nutt. I ha no kernell To spare for her sweet tooth. _Cap_. That was a metaphor: hee's not desperate! _Cou_. Buoy, my deere Captaine. _Cap_. Wy, farewell, Countreyman: I may live yet to witnes thy conversion. [_Exit_. _Enter a Footeman_. _Cou_. How does my uncle? _Fo_. He desires presentlie To speake with you at his lodging. _Cou_. Ile attend him. [_Exit_. [SCENE 2.] _Enter Captaine Underwit and Thomas_.