[_Exeunt._

SCENE III.--_A Hall in Lady_ Allworth's _House._

_Enter_ Overreach, Greedy, Order, Amble, Furnace, Watchall, _and_
Marall.

_Greedy._ Not to be seen?

_Sir G._ Still cloister'd up?--Her reason,
I hope, assures her, though she makes herself
Close prisoner for ever for her husband's loss,
'Twill not recover him.

_Order._ Sir, it is her will:
Which we, that are her servants, ought to serve,
And not dispute. Howe'er, you are nobly welcome:
And if you please to stay, that you may think so,
There came, not six days since, from Hull, a pipe
Of rich Canary; which shall spend itself
For my lady's honour.

_Greedy._ Is it of the right race?

_Order._ Yes, Mr. Greedy.

_Amble._ How his mouth runs o'er!

_Fur._ I'll make it run, and run. 'Save your good worship!

_Greedy._ Honest Mr. Cook, thy hand; again!--How I love thee!
Are the good dishes still in being? speak, boy.

_Fur._ If you have a mind to feed there is a chine
Of beef, well season'd.

_Greedy._ Good.

_Fur._ A pheasant larded--

_Greedy._ That I might now give thanks for't!

_Fur._ Other kickshaws.
Besides, there came last night, from the forest of Sherwood,
The fattest stag I ever cook'd.

_Greedy._ A stag, man?

_Fur._ A stag, sir; part of it is prepar'd for dinner,
And bak'd in puff-paste.

_Greedy._ Puff-paste too, Sir Giles!
A ponderous chine of beef! a pheasant larded!
And red deer too, Sir Giles, and bak'd in puff-paste!
All business set aside, let us give thanks here.

_Sir G._ You know, we cannot.

_Mar._ Your worships are to sit on a commission,
And if you fail to come, you lose the cause.

_Greedy_ Cause me no causes: I'll prove't, for such a dinner,
We may put off a commission; you shall find it
_Henrici decimo quarto_.

_Sir G._ Fie, Mr. Greedy!
Will you lose me a thousand pounds for a dinner?
No more, for shame! We must forget the belly,
When we think of profit.

_Greedy_ Well, you shall o'er-rule me.
I could even cry now. Do you hear, Mr. Cook?
Send but a corner of that immortal pasty;
And I, in thankfulness, will, by your boy,
Send you a brace of three-pences.

_Fur._ Will you be so prodigal?

_Sir G._ Remember me to your lady.

_Enter_ Wellborn.

Who have we here?

_Wellb._ Don't you know me?

_Sir G._ I did once, but now I will not;
Thou art no blood of mine. Avaunt, thou beggar!
If ever thou presume to own me more,
I'll have thee cag'd and whipt.

_Greedy._ I'll grant the warra