Char.  Away, ye poor things, ye despicable creatures! do you come poste to fetch a Lady from me? from a poor School-boy that ye scorn’d of late, and grow lame in your hearts when you should execute?  Pray take her, take her, I am weary of her:  What did you bring to carry her?

Egre.  A Coach and four Horses.

Char.  But are they good?

Egre.  As good as France can shew Sir.

Char.  Are you willing to leave those, and take your safeties?  Speak quickly.

Eust.  Yes with all our hearts.

Char.  ‘Tis done then.  Many have got one Horse, I’ve got four by th’ bargain.

Enter Miramont.

Mir.  How now, who’s here?

Ser.  Nay, now y’are gone without bail.

Mir.  What, drawn, my Friends?  Fetch me my two-hand Sword; I will not leave a head on your shoulders, Wretches.

Eust.  In troth, Sir, I came but to do my duty.

Both.  And we to renew our loves.

Mir.  Bring me a Blanket.  What came they for?

Ang.  To borrow me a while, Sir; but one that never fought yet, has so curri’d, so bastinado’d them with manly carriage, they stand like things Gorgon had turn’d to stone:  they watch’d your being absent, and then thought they might do wonders here, and they have done so; for by my troth I wonder at their coldness, the nipping North or Frost never came near them; St George upon a sign would grow more sensible.  If the name of Honour were for ever to be lost, these were the most sufficient men to do it in all the world; and yet they are but young, what will they rise to?  They’re as full of fire as’ a frozen Glow-worms rattle, and shine as goodly:  Nobility and patience are match’d rarely in these three Gentlemen, they have right use on’t; they’ll stand still for an hour and be beaten.  These are the Anagrams of three great Worthies.

Mir.  They will infect my house with cowardize, if they breath longer in it; my roof covers no baffl’d Monsieurs, walk and air your selves; as I live they stay not here.  White-liver’d wretches, without one word to ask a reason why.  Vanish, ’tis the last warning, and with speed; for if I take ye in hand, I shall dissect you, and read upon your flegmatick dull Carcases.  My Horse again there:  I have other business, which you shall hear hereafter, and laugh at it.  Good-night Charles, fair goodness to your dear Lady; ’tis late, ’tis late.

Ang.  Pray, Sir, be careful of us.

Mir.  It is enough, my best care shall attend ye. [Exeunt.

ACTUS IV.  SCENA IV.

Enter Andrew.