Come wife; Come bid 'em welcom; Come my Jewel: And Pupil, you shall come too; ne're hang backward, Come, come the woman's pleas'd, her anger's over, Come, be not bashfull. _Am_. What do's he prepare here? Sure there's no meat i'th' house, at least not drest, Do's he mean to mock 'em? or some new bred crotchet Come o're his brains; I do not like his kindness: But silence best becomes me: if he mean foul play, Sure they are enough to right themselves, and let 'em, I'le sit by, so they beat him not to powder. _Bar_. Bring in the meat there, ha? Sit down dear neighbour, A little meat needs little Complement, Sit down I say. _Am_. What do you mean by this Sir? _Bar_. Convey away their weapons handsomely. _Am_. You know there's none i'th' house to answer ye, But the poor Girle; you know there's no meat neither. _Bar_. Peace and be quiet; I shall make you smoak else, There's men and meat enough, set it down formally. _Enter_ Algazeirs, _with dishes_. _Am_. I fear some lewd trick, yet I dare not speak on't. _Bar_. I have no dainties for ye Gentlemen, Nor loads of meat, to make the room smell of 'em. Only a dish to every man I have dedicated, And if I have pleas'd his appetite. _Lop_. O, a Capon, A Bird of grace, and be thy will, I honour it. _Die_. For me some fortie pound of lovely Beef, Plac'd in a mediterranean sea of Brewis. _Bar_. Fall to, fall to, that we may drink and laugh after, Wait diligently knaves. _Mil_. What rare bit's this? An execution! bless me! _Bar_. Nay take it to ye, There's no avoiding it, 'tis somewhat tough Sir, But a good stomach will endure it easily, The sum is but a thousand duckets Sir. _Ars_. A Capias from my Surgeon, and my Silk-man! _Bar_. Your carefull makers, but they have mar'd your diet. Stir not, your Swords are gone: there's no avoiding me, And these are Algazeirs, do you hear that passing bell? _Lop_. A strong Citation, bless me! _Bar_. Out with your Beads, Curate, The Devil's in your dish: bell, book, and Candle. _Lop_. A warrant to appear before the Judges! I must needs rise, and turn to th' wall. _Bar_. Ye need not, Your fear I hope will make ye find your Breeches. _All_. We are betrai'd. _Bar_.