_Eust._ Let's go, let's go, I must go visit, Gentlemen,
And mark what sweet lips I must kiss to morrow. _Exeunt._
_Actus II. Scena III._
Cook, Andrew, Butler.
And how do's my Master? _And._ Is at's book, peace Coxcomb,
That such an unlearn'd tongue as thine should ask for him!
_Co._ Do's he not study conjuring too? _And._ Have you
Lost any Plate, _Butler_? _But._ No, but I know
I shall to morrow at dinner. _And._ Then to morrow
You shall be turn'd out of your place for't; we meddle
With no spirits oth' Buttry, they taste too small for us;
Keep me a Pye _in folio_, I beseech thee,
And thou shall see how learnedly Ile translate him;
Shalls have good cheer to morrow? _Coo. Ex._ Lent, good cheer _Andrew_.
_And._ The spight on't is, that much about that time,
I shall be arguing, or deciding rather,
Which are the Males or Females of red Herrings
And whether they be taken in the red Sea onely,
A question found out by _Copernicus_,
The learned Motion-maker. _Co._ I marry _Butler_,
Here are rare things; a man that look'd upon him,
Would swear he understood no more than we do.
_But._ Certain, a learned _Andrew_. _And._ I've so much on't
And am so loaden with strong understanding,
I fear, they'l run me mad, here's a new instrument,
A metamatical glister to purge the Moon with,
When she is laden with cold flegmatick humours,
And here's another to remove the Stars,
When they grow too thick in the Firmament.
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