Cha.  Marry thy selfe to understanding, Andrew,
These women are Errata in all Authours,
They’re faire to see to, and bound up in vellam,
Smooth, white and cleare, but their contents are monstrous;
They treat of nothing but dull age and diseases. 
Thou hast not so much wit in thy head, as there is
On those shelves, Andrew. And.  I think I have not Sir.

Cha.  No, if thou had’st thould’st nere marryed a woman
In thy bosome, they’re Cataplasmes made oth’ deadly sins: 
I nere saw any yet but mine own mother;
Or if I did, I did regard them but
As shadowes that passe by of under Creatures.

And.  Shall I bring you one? lie trust you with my owne wife; I would not have your brother go beyond ye; Th’are the prittiest natural Philosophers to play with.

Cha.  No, no, th’are Opticks to delude mens eyes with.  Does my younger brother speake any Greek yet, Andrew?

And.  No, but he speaks High Dutch, and that goes as daintily.

Cha.  Reach me the bookes down I read yesterday,
And make a little fire and get a manchet;
Make cleane those instruments of brass I shew’d you,
And ’set the great Sphere by, then take the fox tayle
And purg the bookes from dust, last take your Lilly,
And get your part ready. And.  Shall I go home Sir? 
My wives name is Lilly, there my best part lyes, Sir.

Cha.  I mean your Gammer, O thou dunderhead! 
Would’st thou be ever in thy wives Syntaxis? 
Let me have no noise nor nothing to disturb me,
I am to find a secret. And.  So am I too,
Which if I you find, I shall make some smart for’t.—­ Exeunt.

Actus 3. Scena 1.

      Lewis, Angellina; Sylvia, Notary.

This is the day my daughter Angellina,
The happy, that must make you a fortune,
A large and full one, my great care has wrought it,
And yours must be as great to entertaine it;
Young Eustace is a Gentleman at all points,
And his behaviour affable and courtly,
His person excellent, I know you find that,
I read it in your eyes, you like his youth,
Young handsome people should be match’d together,
Then followes handsome Ch[i]ldren, handsome fortunes;
The most part of his fathers state, my Wench,
Is ti’d in a joynture, that makes up the harmony;
And when y’are marryed. he’s of that soft temper,
And so far will be chain’d to your observance,
That you may rule and turne him as you please. 
What are the writings drawn on our side, Sir?

Not.  They are, and here I have so fetter’d him, That if the Elder Brother set his hand to, Not all the power of law shall ere release him.

Lew.  These Notaries are notable confident Knaves,
And able to doe more mischeife than an Army: 
Are all your clauses sure? Not.  Sure as proportion,
They may turne Rivers sooner than these writings.