Boy. I'le forget my feet first;
'Tis the best part of a Foot-mans faith. [Exit Boy.
De Ga. These youths
For all they have been in Italy, to learn thrift,
And seem to wonder at mens lavish waies,
Yet they cannot rub off old friends, their French itches;
They must meet sometimes to disport their Bodies
With good Wine, and good Women; and good store too.
Let 'em be what they will, they are Arm'd at all points,
And then hang saving. Let the Sea grow high,
This Ordinary can fit 'em of all sizes,
Enter La-Castre and Oriana.
They must salute their Country with old customes.
Ori. Brother.
De Ga. My dearest Sister.
Ori. Welcome, welcome:
Indeed ye are welcome home, most welcome.
De Ga. Thank ye,
You are grown a handsome woman, Oriana,
(Blush at your faults) I am wondrous glad to see ye.
Monsieur La-Castre: Let not my Affection
To my fair Sister, make me be held unmannerly:
I am glad to see ye well, to see ye lusty,
Good health about ye, and in fair company,
Believe me, I am proud—
La-Cast. Fair Sir, I thank ye:
Monsieur de Gard, you are welcome from your journey,
Good men, have still good welcome: give me your hand, Sir.
Once more, you are welcome home: you look still younger.