_Char_. What loads are these? _Andr_. Meat, meat, Sir, for the Kitchin, And stinking Fowles the Tenants have sent in; They'l nere be found out at a general eating; And there's fat Venison, Sir. _Cha_. What's that? _And_. Why Deer, Those that men fatten for their private pleasures, And let their tenants starve upon the Commons. _Char_. I've red of Deer, but yet I nere eat any. _And_. There's a Fishmongers boy with Caviar Sir, Anchoves and Potargo, to make ye drink. _Cha_. Sure these are modern, very modern meats, For I understand 'm not. _And_. No more do's any man From Caca merda or a substance worse, Till they be greas'd with oyle, and rub'd with onions, And then flung out of doors, they are rare Sallads. _Cha_. And why is all this, prithee tell me Andrew! Are there any Princes to dine here to day? By this abundance sure there should be Princes; I've read of entertainment for the gods At half this charge, will not six dishes serve 'em? I never had but one, and that a small one. _And_. Your Brother's married this day, he's married, Your younger brother Eustace. _Cha_. What of that? _And_. And all the friends about are bidden hither. There's not a dog that knowes the house but comes too. _Cha_. Married? to whom? _And_. Why to a dainty Gentlewoman, Young, sweet, and modest. _Cha_. Are there modest women? How do they look? _And_. O you'ld blesse your self to see them. He parts with's book, he nere did so before yet. _Cha_. What do's my father for 'm? _And_. Gives all his Land, And makes your brother Heir. _Cha_. Must I have nothing? _And_. Yes, you must study still, and he'l maintain you. _Cha_. I am his eldest brother. _And_. True, you were so, But he has leapd ore your shoulders, Sir. _Cha_. 'Tis wel, He'l not inherit my understanding too? _And_. I think not, he'l scarce find tenants to let it Out to. _Cha_. Hark, hark. _Andr_. The Coach that brings the fair Lady. _Enter_ Lewis, Angellina, _Ladies_, Notary, &c. _And_. Now you may see her. _Cha_. Sure this should be modest; But I do not truly know what women make of it, _Andrew_; She has a face looks like a story, The storie of the Heavens looks very like her. _And_. She has a wide face then. _Cha_. She has a Cheiubins, Cover'd and vail'd with modest blushes. _Eustace_ be happy, whiles poor _Charles_ is patient. Get me my book again, and come in with me-- _Exeunt_. _Enter_ Brisac, Eustace, Egremont, Cowsy, Miramont. _Bri_. Welcome sweet Daughter, welcome noble Brother, And you are welcome Sir, with all your writings, Ladies most welcome; What? my angry brother! You must be welcome too, the Feast is flat else. _Mir_. I am not come for your welcome, I expect none; I bring no joyes to blesse the bed withal; Nor songs, nor Masques to glorifie the Nuptials, I bring an angrie mind to see your folly, A sharp one too, to reprehend you for it.