_And._ Send it presently to _Galateo_, the Italian Star-wright, he'll set it right again with little labour. _Char._ Thou art a pretty Scholar. _And._ I hope I shall be; have I swept Books so often to know nothing? _Char._ I hear thou art married. _And._ It hath pleas'd your Father to match me to a Maid of his own chusing; I doubt her Constellation's loose too, and wants nailing; and a sweet Farm he has given us a mile off, Sir. _Char._ Marry thy self to understanding, _Andrew_; these Women are _Errata_ in all Authors, they're fair to see to, and bound up in Vellam, smooth, white and clear, but their contents are monstrous; they treat of nothing but dull age and diseases. Thou hast not so much wit in thy head, as there is on those shelves, _Andrew_. _And._ I think I have not, Sir. _Char._ No, if thou had'st, thou'ld'st ne'er married a Woman in thy bosom, they're Cataplasms made o'th' deadly sins: I ne'er saw any yet but mine own Mother; or if I did, I did regard them but as shadows that pass by of under creatures. _And._ Shall I bring you one? He trust you with my own Wife; I would not have your Brother go beyond ye; they're the prettiest Natural Philosophers to play with. _Char._ No, no, they're Opticks to delude mens eyes with. Does my younger Brother speak any Greek yet, _Andrew_? _And._ No, but he speaks High Dutch, and that goes daintily. _Char._ Reach me the Books down I read yesterday, and make a little fire, and get a manchet; make clean those Instruments of Brass I shew'd you, and set the great Sphere by; then take the Fox tail, and purge the Books from dust; last, take your _Lilly_, and get your part ready. _And._ Shall I go home, Sir? my Wife's name is _Lilly_, there my best part lies, Sir. _Charles._ I mean your Grammar, O thou Dunderhead would'st thou be ever in thy Wife's _Syntaxis_? Let me have no noise, nor nothing to disturb me; I am to find a secret. _And._ So am I too; which if I find, I shall make some smart for't-- [_Exeunt._ _ACTUS TERTIUS. SCENA PRIMA._ _Enter_ Lewis, Angellina, Sylvia, Notary. _Lewis._ This is the day, my Daughter Angellina, the happy, that must make you a Fortune, a large and full one, my care has wrought it, and yours must be as great to entertain it. Young _Eustace_ is a Gentleman at all points, and his behaviour affable and courtly, his person excellent; I know you find that, I read it in your eyes, you like his youth; young handsome people should be match'd together, then follows handsome Children, handsome fortunes; the most part of his Father's Estate, my Wench, is ti'd in a Jointure, that makes up the harmony; and when ye are married, he's of that soft temper, and so far will be chain'd to your observance, that you may rule and turn him as you please. What, are the Writings drawn on your side, Sir? _Not._ They are, and here I have so fetter'd him, that if the Elder Brother set his hand to, not all the power of Law shall e'er release him.