Bri. All, all; he knows how to use it, he’s a man bred in the world, th’other i’th’ Heavens.  My Masters, pray be wary, and serviceable; and Cook, see all your Sawces be sharp and poynant in the palate, that they may commend you; look to your Roast and Bak’d meats handsomely, and what new Kick-shaws and delicate made things—­Is th’ Musick come?

But. Yes, Sir, they’re here at Breakfast.

Bri. There will be a Masque too; you must see this Room clean, and, Butler, your door open to all good-fellows; but have an eye to your Plate, for there be Furies; my Lilly, welcome you are for the Linen, sort it, and see it ready for the Table, and see the Bride-bed made, and look the cords be not cut asunder by the Gallants too, there be such knacks abroad.  Hark hither, Lilly, to morrow night at twelve a clo[c]k I’le sup w’ye:  your husband shall be safe, I’le send ye meat too; before I cannot well slip from my company.

And. Will you so, will you so, Sir?  I’le make one to eat it, I may chance make you stagger too.

Bri. No answer, Lilly?

Lil. One word about the Linen; I’le be ready, and rest your Worships still.

And. And I’le rest w’ye, you shall see what rest ’twill be.  Are ye so nimble? a man had need have ten pair of ears to watch you.

Bri. Wait on your Master, for I know he wants ye, and keep him in his Study, that the noise do not molest him.  I will not fail my Lilly—­Come in, sweet-hearts, all to their several duties. [Exeunt.

And. Are you kissing ripe, Sir?  Double but my Farm, and kiss her till thy heart ake.  These Smock-vermine, how eagerly they leap at old mens kisses, they lick their lips at profit, not at pleasure; and if ’t were not for the scurvy name of Cuckold, he should lie with her.  I know she’ll labour at length with a good Lordship.  If he had a Wife now, but that’s all one, I’le fit him.  I must up unto my Master, he’ll be mad with Study—­
           [Exit.

ACTUS III.  SCENA III.

Enter Charles.

Char. What a noise is in this house? my head is broken, within a Parenthesis, in every corner, as if the Earth were shaken with some strange Collect, there are stirs and motions.  What Planet rules this house?

Enter Andrew.

Who’s there?

And. ’Tis I, Sir, faithful Andrew.

Char. Come near, and lay thine ear down; hear’st no noise?

And. The Cooks are chopping herbs and mince-meat to make Pies, and breaking Marrow-bones—­

Char. Can they set them again?

And. Yes, yes, in Broths and Puddings, and they grow stronger for the use of any man.

Char. What speaking’s that? sure there’s a Massacre.