Are. _Vrayement Madame, que jamais personne a plus desirè, L'honneur de vostre compagnie, que moy._ Cel. _Laissans en je vous supplie, des compliments & permettoz à vostre servante de vous baiser les mains._ Are. _Vous m'obligez trop._ _Bo._ I have no more patience, lets be merry agen In our owne language, Madam our mirth cooles, Our Nephew! _Enter Fredericke._ _Are._ Passion of my braine. _Fre._ Save you gentlemen, save you Ladies. _Are._ I am undone. _Fre._ I must salute, no matter at which end I begin. _Are._ There's a complement. _Cel._ Is this your nephew Madam? _Are._ _Ie vous prie Madame d'excuser les habitz, & le rude Comportement de mon cousin. Il est tout fraichement Venu de l'universitè, ou on l'a tout gastè._ _Cel._ _Excusez moy Madam, il est bien accomply._ _Fre._ This language should be French, by the motions Of your heads, and the mirth of your faces. _Are._ I am dishonor'd. _Fre._ Tis one of the finest tongues for Ladies to shew their Teeth in, If you'le Latine I am for you, or Greek it, My tailor has not put me into French yet, _Mille basia, basia mille._ Cel. _Ie ne vous entende pas monsieur,_ I understand you not sir. _Fre._ Why so? You and I then shall be in charity, For though we should be abusive, we ha the benefit Not to understand one another: where's my Aunt? I did heare musicke somewhere, and my braines Tun'd with a bottle of your capering claret Made haste to shew their dancing. _Lit._ Please you Madam, They are very comfortable. _St._ Alas Madam How would you have me helpe it, I did use All meanes I could, after he heard the musicke, To make him drunke in hope so to containe him, But the wine made him lighter, and his head Flew hi'ther, ere I mist his heeles. _Ale._ Nay he spoke Latine to the Lady. _Are._ Oh most unpardonable! get him off Quickly, and discreetely, or if I live---- _St._ Tis not in my power, he sweares I am An absurd sober fellow, and if you keepe A servant in his house to crosse his humour, When the rich sword and belt comes home, hee'le kill him. _Are._ What shall I doe? Try your skill, Master _Littleworth_. _Lit._ He has ne're a sword, sweet Mr. _Fredericke_. _Bo._ Tis pitty Madam such a syen should Be lost, but you are clouded. _Cel._ Not I sir, I never found my selfe more cleare at heart. _Bo._ I could play with a feather, your fan Lady, Gentlemen, _Aretina_, ta ra ra ra, come Madam. _Fre._ Why my good tutor in election? You might have beene a scholler. _Lit._ But I thanke My friends they brought me up a little better, Give me the towne wits, that deliver jeasts Cleane from the bow, that whistle in the aire, And cleave the pin at twelvescore, Ladies doe But laugh at a gentleman that has any learning. Tis sinne enough to have your clothes suspected, Leave us, and I will find a time to instruct you; Come here are sugar plumbes, tis a good _Fredericke_.