Eust. Then for my hopes:  Cow. Nay certainties. Eust. They stand
As faire as any mans.  What can there fall
In compass of her wishes which she shall not
Be suddenly possess’d of?  Loves she titles? 
By th’ grace and favour of my princely friends,
I am what she would have me. Bri. He speakes well,
And I beleeve him. Lew. I could wish I did so. 
Pray you a word Sir.  He’s a proper Gentleman,
And promises nothing, but what is possible. 
So far I will go with you; Nay I add,
He hath won much upon me, and were he
But one thing that his brother is, the bargain
Were soone struck up. Bri. What’s that my Lord? Lew. the heire.

And. Which he is not, and I trust never shall be.

Bri. Come, that shall breed no difference; you see
Charles has giv’n ore the World; Ile undertake,
And with much ease, to buy his birthright of him
For a dry-fat of new bookes; nor shall my state
Alone make way for him, but my-elder brothers,
Who being issueless, t’advance our name,
I doubt not will add his; Your resolution?

Lew. He first acquaint my daughter with the proceedings,
On these terms I am yours, as she shall be,
Make you no scruple, get the writings ready,
She shall be tractable; to-morrow we will hold
A second conference:  Farewell noble Eustace,
And you brave Gallants. Eust. Ful increase of honour
Wait ever on you[r] Lordship. And. The Gowt rather
And a perpetual Meagrim. Bri. You see Eustace,
How I travail to possess you of a fortune
You were not born to; be you worthy of it,
Ile furnish you for a Suitor; visit her
And prosper in’t. Eust. Shee’s mine Sir, fear it not: 
In all my travailes, I nere met a Virgin
That could resist my Courtship. Eust. If take now,
Ware made for ever, and will revel it. Exeunt.

And. In tough Welsh parsly, which in our vulgar Tongue
Is strong hempen halters; My poore Master coo’znd,
And I a looker on!  If we have studied
Our majors, and our minors, antecedents,
And consequents, to be concluded coxcombes,
W have made a faire hand on’t; I am glad I h’ve found
Out all their plots, and their conspiracies;
This shall t’ old Mounsieur Miramont, one, that though
He cannot read a Proclamation, yet
Dotes on learning, and loves my Master Charles
For being a Schollar; I hear hee’s comming hither,
I shall meet him, and if he be that old
Rough teasty blade he always us’d to be,
I’le ring him such a peale as shall go neere
To shake their belroome, peradventure, beat ’m,
For he is fire and flaxe, and so have at him. Exit.

    Finis Actus primi.

Actus 2.  Scena I.

      Miramont, Brisac.

Nay Brother, brother. Bri. Pray Sir be not moved,
I meddle in no business but mine own,
And in mine owne ’tis reason I should governe.