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_Enter_ Brisac, Eustace, Egremont, Cowsy, Miramont.
_Bri._ Welcome, sweet Daughter; welcome, noble Brother; and you are
welcome, Sir, with all your Writings; Ladys, most welcome: What, my angry
Brother! you must be welcome too, the Feast is flat else.
_Mir._ I am not come for your welcome, I expect none; I bring no joys to
bless the bed withall; nor Songs, nor Masques to glorifie the Nuptials; I
bring an angry mind to see your folly, a sharp one too, to reprehend you
for it.
_Bri._ You'll stay and dine though.
_Mir._ All your meat smells musty, your Table will shew nothing to content
me.
_Bri._ I'le answer you here's good meat.
_Mir._ But your sauce is scurvie, it is not season'd with the sharpness of
discretion.
_Eust._ It seems your anger is at me, dear Uncle.
_Mir._ Thou art not worth my anger, th'art a Boy, a lump o'thy Father's
lightness, made of nothing but antick cloathes and cringes; look in thy
head, and 'twill appear a foot-ball full of fumes and rotten smoke. Lady,
I pity you; you are a handsome and a sweet young Lady, and ought to have a
handsom man yok'd t'ye, an understanding too; this is a Gimcrack, that can
get nothing but new fashions on you; for say he have a thing shap'd like a
child, 'twill either prove a Tumbler or a Tailor.
_Eust._ These are but harsh words, Uncle.
_Mir._ So I mean 'em. Sir, you play harsher play w'your elder Brother.
_Eust.
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