Eust. To morrow, I think, we must have a Masque Boyes, And of our own making. Egre. ’Tis not half an houres work, A Cupid and a fiddle, and the thing’s done, But let’s be handsome, shall’s be Gods or Nymphs?

Eust. What, Nymphs with beards? Cow. That’s true, we’l be Knights then, Some wandring Knights, that light here on a sudden.

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.

Co. O heavens! why do I labour out my life
In a beef-pot? and only search the secrets
Of a Sallad; and know no farther! And. They are not
Reveal’d to all heads; These are far above
Your Element of Fire. Cooke. I could tell you
Of Archimides glass to fire your coals with,
And of the Philosophers turf that nere goes out;
And Gilbert Butler, I could ravish thee,
With two rare inventions. But. What are they Andrew?

And. The one to blanch your bread from chippings base,
And in a moment, as thou wouldst an Almond,
The Sect of the Epicureans invented that;
The other for thy trenches, that’s a strong one,
To cleanse you twenty dozen in a minute,
And no noise heard, which is the wonder Gilbert,
And this was out of Plato’s new Idea’s.

But. Why, what a learned Master do’st thou serve Andrew?