Char. I've read of Deer, but yet I ne'er eat any.
And. There's a Fishmongers Boy with Caviar, Sir, Anchoves, and Potargo, to make ye drink.
Char. Sure these are modern, very modern meats, for I understand 'em not.
And. No more does any man from Caca merda, or a substance worse, till they be greas'd with Oyl, and rubb'd with Onions, and then flung out of doors, they are rare Sallads.
Char. And why is all this, prethee 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 marri'd this day; he's marri'd your younger Brother Eustace.
Char. What of that?
And. And all the Friends about are bidden hither; there's not a Dog that knows the house, but comes too.
Char. Marri'd! to whom?
And. Why to a dainty Gentlewoman, young, sweet, and modest.