The Elder Brother. Beaumont Francis
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Название: The Elder Brother

Автор: Beaumont Francis

Издательство: Public Domain

Жанр: Драматургия

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СКАЧАТЬ Education, to shape them to that course each was addicted; and therefore that we may proceed discreetly, since what's concluded rashly seldom prospers, you first shall take a strict perusal of them, and then from your allowance, your fair Daughter m[a]y fashion her affection.

      Lew. Monsieur Brisac, you offer fair and nobly, and I'le meet you in the same line of Honour; and I hope, being blest but with one Daughter, I shall not appear impertinently curious, though with my utmost vigilance and study, I labour to bestow her to her worth: Let others speak her form, and future Fortune from me descending to her; I in that sit down with silence.

      Bri. You may, my Lord, securely, since Fame aloud proclaimeth her perfections, commanding all mens 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 be unusual in the Court, (since 'tis the Courtiers garb) I bend my knee, and do expert what follows.

      Bri. Courtly begg'd. My blessing, take it.

      Eust. (to Lew.) Your Lordship's vow'd adorer. What a thing this Brother is! yet I'le vouchsafe him the new Italian shrug— How clownishly the Book-worm does return it!

      Char. I'm glad ye are well. [Reads.

      Eust. Pray you be happy in the knowledge of this pair of accomplish'd Monsieurs; they are Gallants that have seen both Tropicks.

      Bri. I embrace their love.

      Egr. Which we'll repay with servulating.

      Cow. And will report your bounty in the Court.

      Bri. I pray you make deserving use on't first. Eustace, give entertainment to your Friends; what's in my house is theirs.

      Eust. Which we'll make use of; let's warm our brains with half a dozen Healths, and then hang cold discourse, for we'll speak Fire-works. [Ex.

      Lew. What, at his Book already?

      Bri. Fie, fie, Charles, no hour of interruption?

      Char. Plato differs from Socrates in this.

      Bri. Come, lay them by; let them agree at leisure.

      Char. Man's life, Sir, being so short, and then the way that leads unto the knowledge of our selves, so long and tedious, each minute should be precious.

      Bri. In our care to manage worldly business, you must part with this Bookish contemplation, and prepare your self for action; to thrive in this Age is held the blame of Learning: You must study to know what part of my Land's good for the Plough, and what for Pasture; how to buy and sell to the best advantage; how to cure my Oxen when they're o'er-grown with labour.

      Char. I may do this from what I've read, Sir; for, what concerns Tillage, who better can deliver it than Virgil in his Georgicks? and to cure your Herds, his Bucolicks is a Masterpiece; but when he does describe the Commonwealth of Bees, their industry, and knowledge of the herbs from which they gather Honey, with their care to place it with decorum in the Hive; their Government among themselves, their order in going forth, and coming loaden home; their obedience to their King, and his rewards to such as labour, with his punishments only inflicted on the slothful Drone; I'm ravish'd with it, and there reap my Harvest, and there receive the gain my Cattle bring me, and there find Wax and Honey.

      Bri. And grow rich in your imagination; heyday, heyday! Georgicks, Bucolicks, and Bees! art mad?

      Char. No, Sir, the knowledge of these guards me from it.

      Bri. But can you find among your bundle of Books (and put in all your Dictionaries that speak all Tongues) what pleasure they enjoy, that do embrace a well-shap'd wealthy Bride? Answer me that.

      Char. 'Tis frequent, Sir, in Story, there I read of all kind of virtuous and vitious women; the antient Spartan Dames, and Roman Ladies, their Beauties and Deformities; and when I light upon a Portia or Cornelia, crown'd with still flourishing leaves of truth and goodness; with such a feeling I peruse their Fortunes, as if I then had liv'd, and freely tasted their ravishing sweetness; at the present loving the whole Sex for their goodness and example. But on the contrary, when I look on a Clytemnestra, or a Tullia; the first bath'd in her Husband[s] bloud; the latter, without a touch of piety, driving on her Chariot o'er her Father's breathless Trunk, horrour invades my faculties; and comparing the multitudes o'th' guilty, with the few that did die Innocents, I detest and loath 'em as Ignorance or Atheism.

      Bri. You resolve then ne'er to make payment of the debt you owe me.

      Char. What debt, good Sir?

      Bri. A debt I paid my Father when I begat thee, and made him a Grandsire, which I expect. from you.

      Char. The Children, Sir, which I will leave to all posterity, begot and brought up by my painful Studies, shall be my living Issue.

      Bri. Very well; and I shall have a general Collection of all the quiddits from Adam to this time, to be my Grandchild.

      Char. And such a one, I hope, Sir, as shall not shame the Family.

      Bri. Nor will you take care of my Estate?

      Char. But in my wishes; for know, Sir, that the wings on which my Soul is mounted, have long since born her too high, to stoop to any Prey that soars not upwards. Sordid and dunghill minds, compos'd of earth, in that gross Element fix all their happiness; but purer Spirits, purged and refin'd, shake off that clog of humane frailty; give me leave t'enjoy my self; that place that does contain my Books (the best Compa[n]ions) is to me a glorious Court, where hourly I converse with the old Sages and Philosophers, and sometimes for variety, I confer with Kings and Emperors, and weigh their Counsels, calling their Victories (if unjustly got) unto a strict accompt, and in my phancy, deface their ill-plac'd Statues; can I then part with such constant pleasures, to embrace uncertain vanities? No, be it your care t'augment your heap of wealth; it shall be mine t'increase in knowledge—Lights there for my Study— [Exit.

      Bri. Was ever man that had reason thus transported from all sense and feeling of his proper good? It vexes me, and if I found not comfort in my young Eustace, I might СКАЧАТЬ