_Enter_ Eustace, Egremont, Cowsy. Lackey, Take care our Coursers be well rubb'd, And cloath'd, they have out stripp'd the wind in speed. _Lew._ I marry Sir, there's metal in this young fellow! What a sheeps look his elder brother has! _Char._ Your blessing, Sir? _Bri._ Rise _Charles_, thou hast it. _Eust._ Sir, though it be unusual in the Court, (Since 'tis the Courtiers garbe) I bend my knee, And do expect what followes. _Bri._ Courtly begg'd. My blessing! take it. _Eust._ Your Lordships vow'd adorer: _to Lew._ What a thing this brother is! yet Ile vouchsafe him The new Italian shrug-- How clownishly The book-worme does return it! _Ch._ I'm glad y'are well; _reads._ _Eust._ Pray you be happy in the knowledge of This paire of accomplish't Mounsieurs. They are Gallants that have seen both Tropicks. _Br._ I embrace their love. _Egr._ which wee'l repay with servulating. _Cow._ And will report your bounty in the Court. _Bri._ I pray you make deserving use on't first: _Eustace_, give entertainment to your friends, What's in my house is theirs. _Eust._ Which wee'l make use of; Let's warme our braines with half a dozen healths, And then hang cold discourse, for wee'll speak fire-workes. _Exe._ _Lew._ What at his book already? _Bri._ Fy, Fy, _Charles_, No hour of interruption? _Cha._ Plato differs From _Socrates_ in this. _Bri._ Come lay them by; Let them agree at leasure. _Cha._ Mans life Sir, being So short, and then the way that leades unto The knowledg of our selves, so long and tedious, Each minute should be precious. _Bri._ In our care To manage worldly business, you must part with This bookish contemplation, and prepare Your self for action; to thrive in this age, Is held the blame of learning; you must study To know what part of my land's good for th' plough, And what for pasture; how to buy and sell To the best advantage; how to cure my Oxen When they're oregrown with labour. _Cha._ I may do this From what I've read Sir; for what concerns tillage? Who better can deliver it than _Virgil_ In his _Georgicks_? and to cure your herds, His _Bucolicks_ is a masterpeece; but when He does discribe the Commonwealth of Bees, Their industry and knowledge of the herbs, From which they gather honey, with their care To place it with _decorum_ in the Hive, Their gover[n]ment among themselves, their order In going forth and comming loaden home, Their obedience to their King, and his rewards To such as labour, with his punishments Onely inflicted on the slothful Drone, I'm ravished with it, and there reap my harvest, And there receive the gaine my Cattle bring me, And there find wax and honey. _Bri._ And grow rich In your imagination; heyday heyday, _Georgicks_, _Bucolicks_, and Bees! Art mad? _Cha._ No Sir, the knowledge of these guards me from it.