Sis.  What paines he takes to be ridiculous!

Do.  This gentleman has a notable fancie and talkes poetically.

Sis.  Yes, yes; he can write verses.

Do.  Well, I have read Authors in my dayes and knew the length of the poets in my tyme too, which was an hexameter and which a pentameter, but the wits are not as they have been—­right and straite.

Sis.  Why, Doroty?

Do.  Why, because wind is the cause of many things; now if the wind bee not in the right corner tis the ill wind our proverbe speakes of that blowes nobodie good; for when vapors and wind flie into the head it cannot be in two places at one time:  and that’s the reason your men of most wit doe seldome love a woman.—­But here comes my Master and Sir Francis.

    Enter Sir Richard and Sir Francis, and Mr. Courtwell.

Ri.  This is a double honour to us, Sir Francis.  I shall want language, but not a friendly hart to entertaine you and your noble kinsman.  What my exquisite Cavalier Device!—­tis to no purpose I see to remove into the Countrey to save charges and be quiet; the whole Citty will come hither if I stay.  I have no stomack to my kn’t.

Fra.  I hope, madam, you will be no enemy to my kinsman.

Ri.  Sister, I present this gentleman; observe and cherish him; he has been i’th Universitie.

Sis.  Any degree, Sir?

Co.  Onely Bachelour, forsooth!

Ri.  If he winne you to marriage, Lady quicksilver—­

Sis.  He wilbe Master of his Art.

Ri.  My vote is for him.

De.—­I like not the induction of this rivall.

Ri.  He studies now the law, And thats the high way to preferment, Sister.

Sis.  Indeed it is the high way in which some
Deliver up their purses.  He may clime
To scarlet, but that he has too good a face.

De.  Sir, I hope—­

Ri.  Troth, do not, Sir,—­I meane, trouble yourselfe: 
He is too bashfull to prevaile upon
Your spirited mistres!

    Enter Mr. Engine.

En.  Sir Richard.

Ri.  More customers?  Mr. Engine, welcome; Your presence was unexpected in the Countrey.

En.  Twas my ambition with some intents To serve you, sir.  Please you vouchsafe your privacie, I bring Affaires are worth your entertainement:  I have rid hard.

Cou.  What Cavallier’s this, Uncle?

Fra.  He is the inventor of new proiects, cosen, They say, and patents; one that lives like a moth Upon the Common wealth.

Cou.  He lookes like one.

Ric.  You will excuse me, gentlemen.—­Make much of Sir Francis, Madam.

Ext. [Sir Richard and Engine.