_Enter_ Eustace, Egremont, Cowsy.
_Eust._ How do I look now, my Elder Brother? Nay, 'tis a handsome Suit.
_Cow._ All Courtly, Courtly.
_Eust._ I'll assure ye, Gentlemen, my Tailor has travel'd, and speaks as
lofty Language in his Bills too; the cover of an old Book would not shew
thus. Fie, fie; what things these Academicks are! these Book-worms, how
they look!
_Egre._ They're meer Images, no gentle motion or behaviour in 'em; they'll
prattle ye of _Primum Mobile_, and tell a story of the state of Heaven,
what Lords and Ladies govern in such Houses, and what wonders they do when
they meet together, and how they spit Snow, Fire, and Hail, like a Jugler,
and make a noise when they are drunk, which we call Thunder.
_Cow._ They are the sneaking'st things, and the contemptiblest; such
Small-beer brains, but ask 'em any thing out of the Element of their
understanding, and they stand gaping like a roasted Pig: do they know what
a Court is, or a Council, or how the affairs of Christendom are manag'd?
Do they know any thing but a tired Hackney? and they cry absurd as the
Horse understood 'em. They have made a fair Youth of your Elder Brother, a
pretty piece of flesh!
_Eust._ I thank 'em for't, long may he study to give me his Estate. Saw
you my Mistris?
_Egre._ Yes, she's a sweet young Woman; but be sure you keep her from
Learning.
_Eust._ Songs she may have, and read a little unbak'd Poetry, such as the
Dablers of our time contrive, that has no weight nor wheel to move the
mind, nor indeed nothing but an empty sound; she shall have cloaths, but
not made by Geometry; Horses and Coach, but of no immortal Race: I will
not have a Scholar in my house above a gentle Reader; they corrupt the
foolish Women with their subtle Problems; I'le have my house call'd
ignorance, to fright prating Philosophers from Entertainment.
_Cow._ It will do well, love those that love good fashions, good cloaths,
and rich; they invite men to admire 'em, that speak the lisp of Court. Oh
'tis great Learning! to Ride well, Dance well, Sing well, or Whistle
Courtly, they're rare endowments; that they have seen far Countreys, and
can speak strange things, though they speak no truths, for then they make
things common. When are you marri'd?
_Eust._ To morrow, I think; we must have a Masque, Boys, and of our own
making.
_Egre._ 'Tis not half an hours work, a _Cupid_, and a Fiddle, and the
thing's done: but let's be handsome, shall's be Gods or Nymphs?
_Eust._ What, Nymphs with Beards?
_Cow._ That's true, we'll be Knights then; some wandring Knights, that
light here on a sudden.
_Eust._ Let's go, let's go, I must go visit, Gentlemen, and mark what
sweet lips I must kiss to morrow. [_Exeunt._