_Warn._ You must excuse my master; the sea's a little working in his brain, sir. _Sir Mart._ And your Prester Johns of the East Indies, and your great Turk of Rome and Persia. _Mood._ Lord, what a thing it is to be learned, and a traveller! Bodikin, it makes me weep for joy; but, Anthony, you must not bear yourself too much upon your learning, child. _Mill._ Pray, brother, be civil to this gentleman for my sake. _Sir Mart._ For your sake, sister Millisent, much may be done, and here I kiss your hand on it. _Warn._ Yet again, stupidity? _Mill._ Nay, pray, brother, hands off; now you are too rude. _Sir Mart._ Dear sister, as I am a true East India gentleman---- _Mood._ But pray, son Anthony, let us talk of other matters; and tell me truly, had you not quite forgot me? And yet I made woundy much of you, when you were young. _Sir Mart._ I remember you as well as if I saw you but yesterday: A fine grey-headed--grey-bearded old gentleman, as ever I saw in all my life. _Warn. aside._] Grey-bearded old gentleman! when he was a scholar at Cambridge! _Mood._ But do you remember where you were bred up? _Sir Mart._ O yes, sir, most perfectly, in the isle--stay--let me see, oh--now I have it--in the isle of Scilly. _Mood._ In the Isle of Ely, sure you mean? _Warn._ Without doubt, he did, sir; but this damn'd isle of Scilly runs in his head, ever since his sea voyage. _Mood._ And your mother's name was--come, pray let me examine you--for that, I'm sure, you cannot forget. _Sir Mart._ Warner! what was it, Warner? [_Aside._ _Warn._ Poor Mrs Dorothy Draw-water, if she were now alive, what a joyful day would this be to her! _Mood._ Who the devil bid you speak, sirrah? _Sir Mart._ Her name, sir, was Mrs Dorothy Draw-water. _Sir John._ I'll be hanged if this be not some cheat. _Mill._ He makes so many stumbles, he must needs fall at last. _Mood._ But you remember, I hope, where you were born? _Warn._ Well, they may talk what they will of Oxford for an university, but Cambridge for my money. _Mood._ Hold your tongue, you scanderbag rogue you; this is the second time you have been talking when you should not. _Sir Mart._ I was born at Cambridge; I remember it as perfectly as if it were but yesterday. _Warn._ How I sweat for him! he's remembering ever since he was born. _Mood._ And who did you go over with to the East-Indies? _Sir Mart_. Warner! [_Aside._ _Warn._ 'Twas a happy thing, sir, you lighted upon so honest a merchant as Mr Bonaventure, to take care of him. _Mood._ Saucy rascal! This is past all sufferance. _Rose._ We are undone, Warner, if this discourse go on any further. _Lord._ Pray, sir, take pity on the poor gentleman; he has more need of a good supper, than to be asked so many questions.