To horse, and bring the Coach out _Angellina_,
To morrow you will looke more womanly.
_Ang_. So I looke honestly, I feare no eyes, Sir. _Exeunt._
_Actus III. Scaena II._
Brisac, Andrew, Cooke, Lilly.
Wait on your Master, he shall have that befits him;
_And_. No inheritance, Sir? _Bri_. You speak like a foole, a coxcomb,
He shall have annual meanes to buy him bookes,
And find him cloathes and meat, what would he more?
Trouble him with Land? tis flat against his nature:
I love him too, and honour those gifts in him.
_And_. Shall Master _Eustace_ have all? _Bri_. All, all, he knowes how
To use it, hee's a man bred in the world,
T'other ith' heavens: my Masters, pray be wary,
And serviceable; and Cooke see all your sawces
Be sharp and poynant in the pallat, that they may
Commend you; looke to your roast and bak'd meates hansomly,
And what new kickshawes and delicate made things--
Is th' musick come? _But_. Yes Sir, th'are here at breakfast.
_Bri_. There will be a Masque too, you must see this roome clean,
And _Butler_ your doore open to all good fellowes,
But have an eye to your plate, for their be Furies;
My _Lilly_ welcome, you are for the linnen,
Sort it, and see it ready for the table,
And see the bride-bed made, and looke the cords be
Not cut asunder by the Gallants too,
There be such knacks abroad; hark hither, _Lilly_,
To morrow night at twelve a clock, Ile suppe w'ye,
Your husband shall be safe, Ile send ye meat too,
Before I cannot well slip from my company.
Pages:
110
111
112
113
114
115
116
117
118
119
120
121
122
123
124
125
126
127
128
129
130
131
132
133
134