Lew. Good morrow Monsieur Miramont. Mir. Good night-caps
Keepe braines warme, or Maggots will breed in ’m. 
Well Charles, thou shall not want to buy thee bookes yet,
The fairest in thy study are my gift,
And the University Lovaine for thy sake,
Hath tasted of my bounty, and to vex
Th’ old doting foole thy father, and thy brother,
They shall not share a Solz of mine between them;
Nay more, Ile give thee eight thousand Crowns a year,
In some high strain to write my Epitaph.

Actus II.  Scaena II.

      Eustace, Egremont, Cowsy.

How do I look now my elder Brother? 
Nay, t’is a handsome Suit. Cow. All courtly, courtly.

Eust. Ile assure ye Gentlemen, my Taylor has travail’d,
And speaks as lofty Language in his bills too;
The cover of an old Book would not shew thus. 
Fye, fie; what things these Academicks are? 
These book-worms, how they look! Egr. Th’are mere Images,
No gentle motion nor behaviour in ’m,
They’l prattle ye of primum mobile,
And tell a story of the state of Heaven,
What Lords and Ladies govern in such houses,
And what wonders they do when they meet together,
And how they spit snow, fire, and hail like a Jugler,
And make a noise when they are drunk, which we call Thunder.

Cow. They are the sneaking’st things, and the contemptiblest;
Such small-beer brains, but aske ’em any thing
Out of the Element of their understanding,
And they stand gaping like a roasted Pig;
Do they know what a Court is or a Councel,
Or how th’ affairs of Christendome are manag’d? 
Do they know any thing but a tyred hackney? 
And they cry absurd as the Horse understood ’em. 
They have made a fair youth of your elder brother,
A pretty piece of flesh. Eust. I thank ’m for it,
Long may he study to give me his state. 
Saw you my Mistress? Egre. Yes, shees a sweet young woman,
But be sure you keep her from Learning. Eust. Songs she
May have, and read a little unbak’d Poetry,
Such as the Dablers of our time contrive,
That has no weight nor wheel to move the mind,
Nor indeed nothing but an empty sound;
She shall have cloaths, but not made by Geometry;
Horses and Coach, but of no immortal race;
I will not have a Scholar in mine house
Above a gentle Reader; They corrupt
The foolish women with their subtle problems;
Ile have my house call’d Ignorance, to fright
Prating Philosophers from entertainment.

Cow. It will do well, love those that love good fashions,
Good clothes and rich, they invite men to admire ’m,
That speak the lisp of Court.  Oh ’tis great Learning! 
To ride well, dance well, sing well, or whistle Courtly,
Th’ are rare endowments; that they have seen far Countries,
And can speak strange things, though they speak no truths,
For then they make things common.  When are you married?