_Cow._ O blest travel! how much we owe thee for our power to suffer! _Egre._ Some splenetive Youths now, that had never seen more than thy Country smoak, will grow in choler; it would shew fine in us. _Eust._ Yes marry would it, that are prime Courtiers, and must know no angers, but give thanks for our injuries, if we purpose to hold our places. _Bri._ Will you find the door? and find it suddenly? you shall lead the way, Sir, with your perfum'd retinue, and recover the now lost _Angellina_, or build on it, I will adopt some beggar's doubtful issue, before thou shalt inherit. _Eust._ We'll to counsel, and what may be done by man's wit or valour, we'll put in Execution. _Bri._ Do, or never hope I shall know thee. [Exeunt. _Enter _Lewis. _Lew._ O Sir, have I found you? _Bri._ I never hid my self; whence flows this fury, with which, as it appears, you come to fright me? _Lew._ I smell a plot, meer conspiracy amongst ye all to defeat me of my Daughter; and if she be not suddenly deliver'd, untainted in her reputation too, the best of _France_ shall know how I am jugled with. She is my Heir, and if she may be ravish'd thus from my care, farewel Nobility; Honour and Blood are meer neglected nothings. _Bri._ Nay then, my Lord, you go too far, and tax him, whose innocency understands not what fear is. If your unconstant Daughter will not dwell on certainties, must you thenceforth conclude that I am fickle? what have I omitted, to make good my integrity and truth? nor can her lightness, nor your supposition, cast an aspersion on me. _Lew._ I am wounded in fact, nor can words cure it: do not trifle, but speedily, once more I do repeat it, restore my Daughter as I brought her hither, or you shall hear from me in such a kind, as you will blush to answer. _Bri._ All the world, I think, conspires to vex me, yet I will not torment my self: some sprightful mirth must banish the rage and melancholy which hath almost choak'd me; t' a knowing man 'tis Physick, and 'tis thought on; one merry hour I'll have in spight of Fortune, to chear my heart, and this is that appointed; this night I'll hug my _Lilly_ in mine arms, provocatives are sent before to chear me, we old men need 'em, and though we pay dear for our stoln pleasures, so it be done securely, the charge much like a sharp sauce, gives 'em relish. Well, honest _Andrew_, I gave you a Farm, and it shall have a Beacon, to give warning to my other Tenants when the Foe approaches; and presently, you being bestowed else-where, I'le graff it with dexterity on your forehead; indeed I will, _Lilly_, I come, poor _Andrew_. [Exit. ACTUS IV. SCENA II. _Enter_ Miramont, Andrew. _Mir._ Do they [chafe] roundly?