_Mi._ You must now put on boldness, there's no avoiding it; And stand all hazards; flye at all games bravely; They'll say you went out like an Oxe, and return'd like an Ass else. _Bel._ I shall make danger sure. _Mir._ I am sent for home now, I know it is to marry, but my Father shall pardon me, Although it be a witty Ceremony, And may concern me hereafter in my Gravity; I will not lose the freedom of a Traveller; A new strong lusty Bark cannot ride at one Anchor; Shall I make divers suits to shew to the same eyes? 'Tis dull and home-spun; Study several pleasures, And want employments for 'em? I'll be hang'd first; Tye me to one smock? make my travels fruitless? I'll none of that; for every fresh behaviour, By your leave, Father, I must have a fresh Mistriss, And a fresh favour too. _Bel._ I like that passingly; As many as you will, so they be willing, Willing, and gentle, gentle. _Pin._ There's no reason A Gentleman, and a Traveller should be clapt up, For 'tis a kind of Bæboes to be married Before he manifest to the World his good parts: Tug ever like a Rascal at one Oar? Give me the _Italian_ liberty. _Mir._ That I study; And that I will enjoy; Come, go in Gentlemen, There mark how I behave my self, and follow. [_Exeunt._ SCENE III. _Enter_ La-Castre, Natolet, Lugie[r], Rosa Lieura, Lylia-Biancha. _La-Cas._ You and your beauteous daughters are most welcome, Beshrew my blood they are fair ones; welcom Beauties, Welcome, sweet Birds. _Nat._ They are bound much to your courtesies. _La-Cas._ I hope we shall be nearer acquainted. _Nat._ That's my hope too. For certain, Sir, I much desire your Alliance: You see 'em, they are no Gypsies, for their breeding, It has not been so coarse, but they are able To rank themselves with women of fair fashion; Indeed they have been trained well. _Lug._ Thank me. _Nat._ Fit for the Heirs of that State I shall leave 'em; To say more, is to sell 'em. They say your Son Now he has travell'd must be wondrous curious, And choice in what he takes: these are no coarse ones; Sir, here's a merry wench, let him look to himself, (All heart, i'faith) may chance to startle him; For all his care, and travell'd caution, May creep into his Eye; if he love Gravity, Affect a solemn face, there's one will fit him. _La-C._ So young, and so demure?