at 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.

_And._ Of Pigs and Geese, Sir, and Turke