The Works of Francis Beaumont and John Fletcher, vol 2

tongues to sing her praises; should I say more, you well might censure me (what yet I never was) a Flatterer. What trampling's that without of Horses?

Enter Butler.

But. Sir, my young Masters are newly alighted.

Bri. Sir, now observe their several dispositions.

Enter Charles.

Char. Bid my Supsiser carry my Hackney to the Butt'ry, and give him his Bever; it is a civil and sober Beast, and will drink moderately; and that done, turn him into the Quadrangle.

Bri. He cannot out of his University tone.

Enter Eustace, Egremont, Cowsy.

Eust. Lackey, take care our Coursers be well rubb'd, and cloath'd; they have out-stripp'd the Wind in speed.

Lew. I marry, Sir, there's metal in this young Fellow! What a Sheep's look his elder Brother has!

Char. Your blessing, Sir.

Bri. Rise, Charles, thou hast it.

Eust. Sir, though it b