Nay then I must unfold your Brothers pleasure, these be the lessons Sir, he left behind him.
Young Lo. Prethee expound the first.
Sa. I leave to maintain my house three hundred pounds a year; and my Brother to dispose of it.
Young Lo. Mark that my wicked Steward, and I dispose of it?
Sav. Whilest he bears himself like a Gentleman, and my credit falls not in him. Mark that my good young Sir, mark that.
Young Lo. Nay, if it be no more I shall fulfil it, whilst my Legs will carry me I'le bear my self Gentleman-like, but when I am drunk, let them bear me that can. Forward dear Steward.
Sav. Next it is my will, that he be furnished (as my Brother) with Attendance, Apparel, and the obedience of my people.
Young Lo. Steward this is as plain as your old Minikin-breeches. Your wisdom will relent now, will it not? Be mollified or—you understand me Sir, proceed?
Sav. Next, that my Steward keep his place, and power, and bound my Brother's wildness with his care.
Young Lo. I'le hear no more of this Apocrypha, bind it by it self Steward.
Sav. This is your Brothers will, and as I take it, he makes no mention of such company as you would draw unto you. Captains of Gallyfoists, such as in a clear day have seen Callis, fellows that have no more of God, than their Oaths come to: they wear swords to reach fire at a Play, and get there the oyl'd end of a Pipe, for their Guerdon: then the remnant of your Regiment, are wealthy Tobacco-Marchants, that set up with one Ounce, and break for three: together with a Forlorn hope of Poets, and all these look like Carthusians, things without linnen: Are these fit company for my Masters Brother?
Young Lo. I will either convert thee (O thou Pagan Steward) or presently confound thee and thy reckonings, who's there? Call in the Gentlemen.
Sav. Good Sir.
Young Lo. Nay, you shall know both who I am, and where I am.
Sav. Are you my Masters Brother?
Young Lo. Are you the sage Master Steward, with a face like an old Ephemerides?
Enter his Comrades, Captain, Traveller, &c.
Sav. Then God help us all I say.
Young Lo. I, and 'tis well said my old peer of France: welcome Gentlemen, welcome Gentlemen; mine own dear Lads y'are richly welcome. Know this old Harry Groat.
Cap. Sir I will take your love.
Sav. Sir, you will take my Purse.
Cap. And study to continue it.
Sav. I do believe you.
Trav. Your honorable friend and Masters Brother, hath given you to us for a worthy fellow, and so we hugg you Sir.
Sav. Has given himself into the hands of Varlets, not to be carv'd out. Sir, are these the pieces?
Young Lo. They are the Morals of the Age, the vertues, men made of gold.
Sav. Of your gold you mean Sir.
Young Lo. This is a man of War, and cryes go on, and wears his colours.
Sav. In's nose.
Young Lo. In the fragrant field. This is a Traveller Sir, knows men and manners, and has plow'd up the Sea so far till both the Poles have knockt, has seen the Sun take Coach, and can distinguish the colour of his Horses, and their kinds, and had a Flanders-Mare leapt there.
Sav. 'Tis much.
Tra. I have seen more Sir.
Sav. 'Tis even enough o' Conscience; sit down, and rest you, you are at the end of the world already. Would you had as good a Living Sir, as this fellow could lie you out of, he has a notable gift in't.
Young Lo. This ministers the smoak, and this the Muses.
Sav. And you the Cloaths, and Meat, and Money, you have a goodly generation of 'em, pray let them multiply, your Brother's house is big enough, and to say truth, h'as too much Land, hang it durt.
Young Lo. Why now thou art a loving stinkard. Fire off thy Annotations and thy Rent-books, thou hast a weak brain Savil, and with the next long Bill thou wilt run mad. Gentlemen, you are once more welcome to three hundred pounds a year; we will be freely merry, shall we not?
Capt. Merry as mirth and wine, my lovely Loveless.
Poet. A serious look shall be a Jury to excommunicate any man from our company.
Tra. We will not talk wisely neither?
Young Lo. What think you Gentlemen by all this Revenue in Drink?
Capt. I am all for Drink.
Tra. I am dry till it be so.
Poet. He that will not cry Amen to this, let him live sober, seem wise, and dye o'th' Coram.
Young Lo. It shall be so, we'l have it all in Drink, let Meat and Lodging go, they are transitory, and shew men meerly mortal: then we'l have Wenches, every one his Wench, and every week a fresh one: we'l keep no powdered flesh: all these we have by warrant, under the title of things necessary. Here upon this place I ground it, The obedience of my people, and all necessaries: your opinions Gentlemen?
Capt. 'Tis plain and evident that he meant Wenches.
Sav. Good Sir let me expound it?
Capt. Here be as sound men, as your self Sir.
Poet. This do I hold to be the interpretation of it: In this word Necessary, is concluded all that be helps to Man; Woman was made the first, and therefore here the chiefest.
Young Lo. Believe me 'tis a learned one; and by these words, The obedience of my people, you Steward being one, are bound to fetch us Wenches.
Capt. He is, he is.
Young Lo. Steward, attend us for instructions.
Sav. But will you keep no house Sir?
Young Lo. Nothing but drink Sir, three hundred pounds in drink.
Sav. O miserable house, and miserable I that live to see it! Good Sir keep some meat.
Young Lo. Get us good Whores, and for your part, I'le board you in an Alehouse, you shall have Cheese and Onions.
Sav. What shall become of me, no Chimney smoaking? Well Prodigal, your Brother will come home.
[Exit.
Young Lo. Come Lads, I'le warrant you for Wenches, three hundred pounds in drink.
[Exeunt omnes.
