_Cha._ With much unwillingness with you, but if There's no evasion-- _Eust._ None. _Cha._ Heare yet a word As for the sword and other fripperies, In a faire way send for them, you shall have 'em. But rather than surrender _Angellina_, Or heare it againe mention'd, I oppose My breast unto lowd thunder, cast behinde me All ties of Nature. _Eust._ She detain'd, I'me deafe To all perswasion. _Cha._ Guard thy selfe then _Eustace_, I use no other Rhetorick. _Mir._ Clashing of swords [_Enter Miram._] So neere my house? brother oppos'd to brother! Here is no fencing at halfe sword; hold, hold, _Charles, Eustace_. _Eust._ Second him, or call in more helpe. Come not betweene us, Ile not know nor spare you; D'ye fight by th' booke? _Cha._ Tis you that wrong me, off Sir, And suddenly, Ile conjure down the Spirit That I have raised in him. _Eust._ Never, _Charles_, Tis thine, and in thy death, be doubled in me. _Mir._ I'me out of breath, yet trust not too much to't boyes, For if you pawse not suddenly, and heare reason, Doe, kill your Uncle, doe, but that I'me patient, And not a cholerick old teasty foole, Like your father, Ide daunce a matachin with you, Should make you sweat your best blood for't; I would, And it may be I will, _Charles_ I command thee, And _Eustace_ I entreat thee, th'art a brave Spark, A true tough-metal'd blade, and I begin To love thee heartily, give me a fighting Courtier, Ile cherish him for example; in our age Th'are not born every day. _Cha._ You of late Sir, In me lov'd learning. _Mir._ True, but take me w'ye, _Charles_, 'Twas when yong _Eustace_ wore his heart in's breeches, And fought his battailes in Complements and Cringes, When's understanding wav'd in a flaunting feather, And his best contemplation look'd no further Than a new-fashion'd doublet, I confess then The lofty noise your Greek made onely pleas'd me; But now hee's turn'd an _Oliver_ and a _Rowland_, Nay the whole dozen of peeres are bound up in him: Let me remember, when I was of his yeeres, I did looke very like him; and did you see My picture as I was then, you would sweare That gallant _Eustace_ (I meane, now he dares fight) Was the true substance and the perfect figure. Nay, nay, no anger, you shall have enough _Charles_. _Cha._ Sure Sir, I shall not need addition from him.