I will either convert thee (O thou Pagan Steward) or presently
confound thee and thy reckonings, who's there? Call in the Gentlemen.
_Sav_. Good Sir.
_Young Lo_. Nay, you shall know both who I am, and where I am.
_Sav_. Are you my Masters Brother?
_Young Lo_. Are you the sage Master Steward, with a face like an old
_Ephemerides_?
_Enter his Comrades_, Captain, Traveller, &c.
_Sav_. Then God help us all I say.
_Young Lo_. I, and 'tis well said my old peer of _France_: welcome
Gentlemen, welcome Gentlemen; mine own dear Lads y'are richly welcome.
Know this old _Harry_ Groat.
_Cap_. Sir I will take your love.
_Sav_. Sir, you will take my Purse.
_Cap_. And study to continue it.
_Sav_. I do believe you.
_Trav_. Your honorable friend and Masters Brother, hath given you to us
for a worthy fellow, and so we hugg you Sir.
_Sav_. Has given himself into the hands of Varlets, not to be carv'd out.
Sir, are these the pieces?
_Young Lo_. They are the Morals of the Age, the vertues, men made of gold.
_Sav_. Of your gold you mean Sir.
_Young Lo_. This is a man of War, and cryes go on, and wears his colours.
_Sav_. In's nose.
_Young Lo_. In the fragrant field. This is a Traveller Sir, knows men and
manners, and has plow'd up the Sea so far till both the Poles have knockt,
has seen the Sun take Coach, and can distinguish the colour of his Horses,
and their kinds, and had a _Flanders_-Mare leapt there.
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