[Sidenote: Much good may doe you Sir.] Now then, like _Scanderbeg_ he falls to work, And hews the Pudding as he hew’d the Turk. How he plough’d up the Beefe like Forrest-land, And fum’d, because the bones his wrath withstand? Upon the Mutton he fell not like a Lamb, But rather like a Wolfe he tore the same. At first a Sister helpt him, but this Elfe sir, Wearying her out, she cryes, _Pray help your self sir!_ Upon the Pasty though he fell anon, As if ’t had been the walls of _Babylon_. Like a Cathedrall downe he throwes that stuffe, _Why, Sisters_, saith he, _I am pepper-proofe_. Then down he powres the Claret, and down again, And _would the French King were a Puritan_ He cryes: swills up the Sack, and I’le be sworn [Sidenote: Christian forgivenesse.] Quoth he, _Spaine’s_ King is not the _Popes_ tenth horne. By this his tearing hunger doth abate, [Sidenote: No Grace after meat.] And on the second course they ’gan to prate. Then quoth _Priscilla_, Oh my brother deare: Truly y’are welcome to this homely cheare, And therefore eate, good brother, eate your fill, Alas for _Daniel_, my heart aketh still. Then quoth the Priest, _Sister be of good heart_; But she reply’d _good brother eate some Tart_. _Rebecca_ then a member of the ’lection Began to talk of brotherly affection; For this, said she; as I have heard the wise Discourse, consisteth much in exercise. Yet I was foolish, and would oft resist, But you had more grace, Brother, than to desist. Streight he reply’d, there is a time for all things, There is a time for great things and for small things, There’s a time to eate, and drink, and reformation, A time to empty, and for procreation. Therefore deare Sister let us take our time, There’s reason for’t, I never car’d for Rhyme. Then truly answer’d she, tis a good motion, And I embrace it with a warme devotion. [Sidenote: Nothing beyond ingratitude.] Why you know Brother you did never prove That I was ere ingratefull for your love, But sometimes Angels did attend your Purse, At other times you know I did you nurse, With many a secret dish of lusty meat, And presently we went and did the feat. Truly quoth _Dorcas_ then, I saw a Vision, That we should have our foes in great derision. Quoth _Martha_ straight (and then she shook the crums From off her apron white, and pickt her gums) So I doe hope, for so our Brother said; O what a heavenly piece of work he made! But I am ign’rant, and my memory short, I shall forget, were I to be hang’d for’t. Then quoth the Priest, The cheere that here we see, Is but an Emblem of Mortality. The Oxe is strong, and glories in his strength,