Cha. With much unwillingness with you, but if
There’s no evasion—­ Eust. None. Cha. Heare yet a word
As for the sword and other fripperies,
In a faire way send for them, you shall have ’em. 
But rather than surrender Angellina,
Or heare it againe mention’d, I oppose
My breast unto lowd thunder, cast behinde me
All ties of Nature. Eust. She detain’d, I’me deafe
To all perswasion. Cha. Guard thy selfe then Eustace,
I use no other Rhetorick. Mir. Clashing of swords [Enter Miram.]
So neere my house? brother oppos’d to brother! 
Here is no fencing at halfe sword; hold, hold,
Charles, Eustace. Eust. Second him, or call in more helpe. 
Come not betweene us, Ile not know nor spare you;
D’ye fight by th’ booke? Cha. Tis you that wrong me, off Sir,
And suddenly, Ile conjure down the Spirit
That I have raised in him. Eust. Never, Charles,
Tis thine, and in thy death, be doubled in me.

Mir. I’me out of breath, yet trust not too much to’t boyes,
For if you pawse not suddenly, and heare reason,
Doe, kill your Uncle, doe, but that I’me patient,
And not a cholerick old teasty foole,
Like your father, Ide daunce a matachin with you,
Should make you sweat your best blood for’t; I would,
And it may be I will, Charles I command thee,
And Eustace I entreat thee, th’art a brave Spark,
A true tough-metal’d blade, and I begin
To love thee heartily, give me a fighting Courtier,
Ile cherish him for example; in our age
Th’are not born every day. Cha. You of late Sir,
In me lov’d learning. Mir. True, but take me w’ye, Charles,
’Twas when yong Eustace wore his heart in’s breeches,
And fought his battailes in Complements and Cringes,
When’s understanding wav’d in a flaunting feather,
And his best contemplation look’d no further
Than a new-fashion’d doublet, I confess then
The lofty noise your Greek made onely pleas’d me;
But now hee’s turn’d an Oliver and a Rowland,
Nay the whole dozen of peeres are bound up in him: 
Let me remember, when I was of his yeeres,
I did looke very like him; and did you see
My picture as I was then, you would sweare
That gallant Eustace (I meane, now he dares fight)
Was the true substance and the perfect figure. 
Nay, nay, no anger, you shall have enough Charles.

Cha. Sure Sir, I shall not need addition from him.

Eust. Nor I from any, this shall decide my interest,
Though I am lost to all deserving men,
To all that men call good, for suffering tamely
Insufferable wrongs, and justly slighted
By yeelding to a minute of delay
In my revenge, and from that made a stranger
Unto my fathers house and favour, orewhelm’d
With all disgraces, yet I will mount upward,