Whilest he bears himself like a Gentleman, and my credit falls not
in him. Mark that my good young Sir, mark that.
_Young Lo_. Nay, if it be no more I shall fulfil it, whilst my Legs will
carry me I'le bear my self Gentleman-like, but when I am drunk, let them
bear me that can. Forward dear Steward.
_Sav_. Next it is my will, that he be furnished (as my Brother) with
Attendance, Apparel, and the obedience of my people.
_Young Lo_. Steward this is as plain as your old Minikin-breeches. Your
wisdom will relent now, will it not? Be mollified or--you understand me
Sir, proceed?
_Sav_. Next, that my Steward keep his place, and power, and bound my
Brother's wildness with his care.
_Young Lo_. I'le hear no more of this _Apocrypha_, bind it by it self
Steward.
_Sav_. This is your Brothers will, and as I take it, he makes no mention
of such company as you would draw unto you. Captains of Gallyfoists, such
as in a clear day have seen _Callis_, fellows that have no more of God,
than their Oaths come to: they wear swords to reach fire at a Play, and
get there the oyl'd end of a Pipe, for their Guerdon: then the remnant of
your Regiment, are wealthy Tobacco-Marchants, that set up with one Ounce,
and break for three: together with a Forlorn hope of Poets, and all these
look like Carthusians, things without linnen: Are these fit company for my
Masters Brother?
_Young Lo_.
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