_St._ Is come from the Universitie. _Bo._ By whose directions? _St._ It seemes my Ladies. _Bo._ Let me speake with him Before he see his Aunt, I doe not like it. _Enter Mr. Fredericke._ Mr. _Fredericke_ welcome I expected not So soone your presence, what's the hasty cause? _Fr._ These letters from my Tutor will acquaint you. _St._ Welcome home sweet Mr. _Fredericke_. _Fr._ Where's my Aunt? _St._ Shee's busie about her painting, in her closet, The Outlandish man of Art, is copying out Her countenance. _Fr._ She is sitting for her picture. _St._ Yes sir, and when tis drawne, she will be hang'd Next the French Cardinall in the dining roome, But when she heares you'r come, she will dismisse The Belgicke gentleman to entertaine Your worship. _Fr._ Change of aire has made you witty. _Bo._ Your Tutor gives you a hansome character _Fredericke_, and is sorry your Aunts pleasure Commands you from your studies, but I hope You have no quarrell to the liberall arts, Learning is an addition beyond Nobilitie of birth, honour of bloud Without the ornament of knowledge is A glorious ignorance. _Fr._ I never knew more sweet and happy houres Than I emploid upon my bookes, I heard A part of my Philosophy, and was so Delighted with the harmony of nature, I could have wasted my whole life upon't. _Bo._ Tis pitty a rash indulgence should corrupt So faire a Genius, shee's here, ile observe. _Enter Aretina. Alexander. Littleworth. Steward._ _Fr._ My most lov'd Aunt. _Are._ Support me, J shall faint. _Lit._ What ailes your Ladiship? _Are._ Is that _Fredericke_, In blacke. _Alex._ Yes Madam, but the doublets Sattin. _Are._ The boy's undone. _Fre._ Madam you appeare troubled. _Are._ Have J not cause? Was not J trusted with Thy education boy, and have they sent thee Home like a very scholler. _Alex._ Twas ill done How ere they usd him in the Vniversitie, To send him to his friends thus. _Fre._ Why sir, blacke (For tis the colour that offends your eyesight) Is not within my reading any blemish, Sables are no disgrace in Heraldry. _Alex._ Tis comming from the Colledge thus, that makes it Dishonorable, while you ware it for Your father, it was commendable, or were Your Aunt dead, you might mourne and justifie. _Are._ What lucke I did not send him into France, They would have given him generous education, Taught him another garbe, to weare his locke, And shape, as gawdie as the Summer, how To dance, and wagge his feather ala mode, To complement, and cringe, to talke not modestly Like J forsooth, and no forsooth, to blush And looke so like a Chaplaine, there he might Have learned a brazen confidence, and observ'd So well the custome of the countrey, that He might by this time have invented fashions For us, and beene a benefit to the Kingdome Preserv'd our Tailors in their wits, and sav'd The charge of sending into forraine Courts For pride and anticke fashions, observe, In what a posture he does hold his hat now.