Young Lo. Nay good Sir, make all even, here’s a Widow wants your good word for me, she’s rich, and may renew me and my fortunes.

Elder Lo. I am glad you look before you.  Gentlewoman, here is a poor distressed younger Brother.

Wid. You do him wrong Sir, he’s a Knight.

Elder Lo. I ask you mercy:  yet ’tis no matter, his Knighthood is no inheritance I take it:  whatsoever he is, he is your Servant, or would be, Lady.  Faith be not merciless, but make a man; he’s young and handsome, though he be my Brother, and his observances may deserve your Love:  he shall not fail for means.

Wid. Sir you speak like a worthy Brother:  and so much I do credit your fair Language, that I shall love your Brother:  and so love him, but I shall blush to say more.

Elder Lo. Stop her mouth.  I hope you shall not live to know that hour when this shall be repented.  Now Brother I should chide, but I’le give no distaste to your fair Mistress.  I will instruct her in’t and she shall do’t:  you have been wild and ignorant, pray mend it.

Young Lo. Sir, every day now Spring comes on.

Elder Lo. To you good Mr. Savil and your Office, thus much I have to say:  Y’are from my Steward become, first your own Drunkard, then his Bawd:  they say y’are excellent grown in both, and perfect:  give me your keys Sir Savil.

Savil. Good Sir consider whom you left me to.

Elder Lo. I left you as a curb for, not to provoke my Brothers follies:  where’s the best drink, now? come, tell me Savil; where’s the soundest Whores?  Ye old he Goat, ye dried Ape, ye lame Stallion, must you be leading in my house your Whores, like Fairies dance their night rounds, without fear either of King or Constable, within my walls?  Are all my Hangings safe; my Sheep unfold yet?  I hope my Plate is currant, I ha’ too much on’t.  What say you to 300 pounds in drink now?

Sav. Good Sir forgive me, and but hear me speak?

Elder Lo. Me thinks thou shouldst be drunk still, and not speak, ’tis the more pardonable.

Sav. I will Sir, if you will have it so.

Elder Lo. I thank ye:  yes, e’ne pursue it Sir:  do you hear? get a Whore soon for your recreation:  go look out Captain Broken-breech your fellow, and Quarrel if you dare:  I shall deliver these Keys to one shall have more honesty, though not so much fine wit Sir.  You may walk and gather Cresses fit to cool your Liver; there’s something for you to begin a Diet, you’l have the Pox else.  Speed you well, Sir Savil:  you may eat at my house to preserve life; but keep no Fornication in the Stables. [Ex. om. pr. Savil.

Sav. Now must I hang my self, my friends will look for’t.  Eating and sleeping, I do despise you both now:  I will run mad first, and if that get not pitty, I’le drown my self, to a most dismal ditty. [Exit Savil.