2 Gent. Hold sirrah, there.
Pen. Any young wench i' th' Town, Sir.
3 Gent. It shall go round. [Exit Gent.
Pen. Most honorable Gentlemen,
All these are Courtiers, but they are meer Coxcombs,
And only for a wench, their purses open,
Nor have they so much judgement left to chuse her;
If e'r they call upon me, I'll so fit 'em,
I have a pack of wry-mouth'd mackrel Ladies,
Stink like a standing ditch, and those dear Damsels;
But I forget my business, I thank ye Monsieurs,
I have a thousand whimseys in my brain now. [Exit.
Scæna Tertia.
Enter (to a Banquet) Dutchess, Syenna, Lords, Attendants.
Dutch. Your Grace shall now perceive how much we honor ye
And in what dear regard we hold your friendship:
Will you sit Sir, and grace this homely Banquet?
Sy. Madam, to your poor friend, you are too magnificent.
Dutch. To the Dukes health, and all the joyes I wish him,
Let no man miss this cup: have we no Musick?
Sy. Your noble favours still you heap upon me,
But where's my virtuous Mistriss, such a Feast,
And not her sparkling beauty here to bless it?
Methinks it should not be, it shews not fully.