_Bri_. Thou shalt keep thy Farm. _Mir_. He does afflict him rarely. _And_. You trouble me. Then his intent arriving, the vizard of his hypocrisie pull'd of[f] to the Judge criminal. _Bri_. O I am undone. _And_. He's put out of Commission with disgrace, and held uncapable of bearing Office ever hereafter. This is my revenge, and this I'll put in practice. _Bri_. Do but hear me. _And_. To bring me back from my Grammar to my Hornbook, it is unpardonable. _Bri_. Do not play the Tyrant; accept of composition. _Lil_. Hear him, _Andrew_. _And_. What composition? _Bri_. I'll confirm thy Farm, and add unto it a hundred Acres more, adjoyning to it. _And_. Umb, this mollifies; but y'are so fickle, and will again deny this, there being no witness by. _Bri_. Call any witness, I'll presently assure it. _And_. Say you so? troth there's a friend of mine, Sir, within hearing, that's familiar with all that's past, his testimony will be authentical. _Bri_. Will he be secret? _And_. You may tie his tongue up, as you would do your purse-strings. _Bri_. _Miramont_! _Mir_. Ha-ha-ha! _And_. This is my witness. Lord how you are troubled! sure you have an Ag[u]e, you shake so with choler: Here's your loving Brother, Sir, and will tell no body but all he meets, that you have eat a Snake, and are grown young, gamesome, and rampant. _Bri_. Caught thus? _And_. If he were one that would make jests of you, or plague ye, with making your Religious gravity ridiculous to your Neighbours, then you had some cause to be perplex'd. _Bri_. I shall become discourse for Clowns and Tapsters. _And_. Quick, _Lilly_, quick, he's now past kissing, between point and point. He swounds, fetch him some Cordial--Now put in, Sir. _Mir_. Who may this be? sure this is some mistake: let me see his face, wears he not a false beard? it cannot be _Brisac_ that worthy Gentleman, the Pillar and the Patron of his Country; he is too prudent, and too cautelous, experience hath taught him t'avoid these fooleries, he is the punisher, and not the doer; besides he's old and cold, unfit for Woman: This is some counterfeit, he shall be whipt for't, some base abuser of my worthy Brother. _Bri_. Open the doors; will ye imprison me? are ye my Judges? _Mir_. The man raves! this is not judicious _Brisac_: yet now I think on't, h'has a kind of Dog look like my Brother, a guilty hanging face. _Bri_. I'll suffer bravely, do your worst, do, do. _Mir_. Why, it's manly in you. _Bri_. Nor will I rail nor curse, you slave, you whore, I will not meddle with you; but all the torments that e're fell on men, that fed on mischief, fall heavily on you all. [_Exit_. _Lil_. You have given him a heat, Sir. _Mir_. He will ride you the better, _Lilly_. _And_. We'll teach him to meddle with Scholars.