And march like Cavaliers with tilting feathers,
Gaudy as Agamemnons[237] in the play: 
After whome thou, like St. George a horseback
Or the high Sheriff, shall make the Cuntrey people
Fall downe in adoration of thy Crooper
And silver stirrup, my right worshipfull. 
A pox a buckram and the baggage in’t! 
Papers defil’d with Court hand and long dashes,
Or Secretarie lines that stradle more
Then Frenchmen and lesse wholsome to the Client. 
Is thy head to be fild with Proclamations,
Rejoynders and hard words beyond the Alchemist[238]? 
Be ruld, and live like a fine gentleman
That may have haukes and hounds and whores and horses,
And then thou art fitt Companie.

Cou.  You talke wildlie;
I wou’d you saw your Errour that place all
Your happinesse upon such course delights. 
I should degenerate too much and forfet
My education.

Cap.  Education! he has gott a tune: 
I doe not thinke but thou wilt leave thy law
And exercise thy talent in composeing
Some treatises against long haire and drinking
That most unchristian weed yclipt tobacco;
Preach to the puisnes[239] of the Inne sobrietie,
And abstinence from shaveing of lewd Baylies
That will come shortlie to your Chamber doores
And there with reverence entreat your worships
Come forth and be arrested,—­precious tappoles! 
I wo’d not willingly despaire of thee,
For thy Lands sake and cause I am thy Countreyman. 
One generous Vagarie, and thou wer’t wise,
Would breake somebodies hart within a sennight,
And then th’art Lord of all.  Have but the grace
To dine wo’ mee at taverne and ile tell
Thy friends there is some hope.

Cou.  My friends?

Cap.  Thy father’s
In Essex:  if he live heele purchase Romford;
If he die sooner then the towne’s our owne;
Spend but an acre a day and thou maist live
Till all the world be wearie of thee.  Betweene
Us two, what thincke you of a wench?

Cou.  Nothing.

Cap.  You meane one wench betweene us two is nothing. 
I know a hundred Leverets[240], things that will
Bound like a dancer on the rope and kiss thee
Into thy naturall complexion: 
A sinner that shall clime thee like a squirrell.

Cou.  And crack me like a Nutt.  I ha no kernell To spare for her sweet tooth.

Cap.  That was a metaphor:  hee’s not desperate!

Cou.  Buoy, my deere Captaine.

Cap.  Wy, farewell, Countreyman:  I may live yet to witnes thy conversion. [Exit.

Enter a Footeman.

Cou.  How does my uncle?

Fo.  He desires presentlie To speake with you at his lodging.

Cou.  Ile attend him.

[Exit.

[SCENE 2.]

Enter Captaine Underwit and Thomas.