_Bri._ But can you find among your bundle of bookes (And put in all your Dictionaries that speak all tongu's) What pleasure they enjoy, that do embrace A well shap'd wealthy Bride? Answer me that. _Cha._ Tis frequent Sir in story, there I read of All kinde of vertuous and vitious women; The ancient Spartan Dames, and Roman Ladyes, Their beauties and deformities, and when I light upon a _Portia_ or _Cornelia_, Crown'd with still-flourishing leaves of truth and goodness, With such a feeling I peruse their fortunes, As if I then had liv'd, and freely tasted Their ravishing sweetness; at the present loving The whole sexe for their goodness and example. But on the contrary when I looke on A _Clytemnestra_, or a _Tullia_; The first bath'd in her husbands blood; The latter, Without a touch of piety, driving on Her Chariot ore her fathers breathless trunk, Horrour invades my faculties; and comparing The multitudes o' th' guilty, with the few That did dye Innocents, I detest, and loathe 'm As ignorance or Atheisme. _Bri_. You resolve then Nere to make payment of the debt you owe me. _Cha_. What debt, good Sir? _Bri_. A debt I payd my father When I begat thee, and made him a Grandsir, Which I expect from you. _Cha_. The children Sir, Which I will leave to all posterity, Begot and brought up by my painefull studies, Shall be my living issue. _Bri_. Very well. And I shall have a general collection Of all the quiddits from _Adam_ to this time To be my Grandchild. _Ch_. And such a one I hope Sir As shall not shame the family. _Bri_. Nor will you Take care of my estate? _Cha_. But in my wishes; For know Sir, that the wings on which my Soul Is mounted, have long since born her too high To stoope to any prey that scares not upwards. Sordid and dunghil minds compos'd of earth, In that grosse Element fix all their happiness; But purer spirits, purg'd and refin'd, shake off That clog of humane frailtie; give me leave T'injoy my selfe; that place that does containe My Bookes (the best Companions) is to me A glorious Court, where hourely I converse With the old Sages and Philosophers, And sometimes for variety, I conferre With Kings and Emperours, and weigh their Counsels, Calling their Victories (if unjustly got) Unto a strict accompt, and in my phancy, Deface their ill-plac'd Statues; Can I then Part with such constant pleasures, to embrace Uncertaine vanities? No, be it your care T'augment your heap of wealth; It shall be mine T'encrease in knowledg--Lights there for my study. _Exit_. _Bri_. Was ever man that had reason thus transported From all sense and feeling of his proper good? It vexes me, and if I found not comfort In my young _Eustace_, I might well conclude My name were at a period! _Lew_. Hee's indeed Sir The surer base to build on. _Bri_. _Eustace_. _Eust_. Sir. [_Ent. Eust. Egre. Cow. & Andr.