_Lovel._ Call you that desperate, which by a line Of institution from our ancestors Hath been derived down to us, and received In a succession, for the noblest way Of breeding up our youth in letters, arms, Fair mien, discourses, civil exercise, And all the blazon of a gentleman? Where can he learn to vault, to ride, to fence, To move his body gracefuller? to speak His language purer? or tune his mind And manners more to the harmony of nature, Than in these nurseries of nobility?---- _Host._ Aye, that was when the nurseries self was noble, And only virtue made it, not the market, That titles were not vented at the drum Or common outcry: Goodness gave the greatness, And greatness worship: Every house became An academy of honour, and those parts We see departed in the practice now Quite from the institution. _Lovel._ Why do you say so, Or think so enviously? do they not still Learn there the centaur's skill, the art of Thrace, To ride? or Pollux' mystery, to fence? The Pyrrhick gesture, both to dance and spring In armour? to be active for the wars? To study figures, numbers, and proportions, May yield them great in counsel? and the arts, Grave Nestor and the wise Ulysses practised, To make their English sweet upon their tongue, As reverend Chaucer says? _Host._ Sir, you mistake.-- To play Sir Pandarus my copy hath it, And carry messages to Madam Cresside; Instead of backing the brave steed o' mornings, To mount the chamber-maid, and, for a leap O' the vaulting horse, to ply the vaulting house; For exercise of arms, a bale of dice, Or two or three packs of cards, to shew the cheat, And nimbleness of hand; mistake a cloak From my lord's back, and pawn it; ease his pockets Of a superfluous watch; or geld a jewel Of an odd stone or so; twinge two or three buttons From off my lady's gown. These are the arts, Or seven liberal deadly sciences Of pagery, or rather paganism, As the tides run; to which if he apply him, He may perhaps take a degree at Tyburn A year the earlier; come to read a lecture Upon Aquinas at St Thomas a watering's, And so go forth a laureat in hemp circle. _New Inn._ Act I. Scene 3d.] [Footnote 51: The second earl of Salisbury married an aunt of Lady Elizabeth Dryden; his son, lord Cranbourne, was grandfather of James, the fourth earl; and therein consisted the relationship between Dryden's sons, and the family of his patron, to which it is somewhat difficult, in modern days, to give an exact name.]