Ter. Come, my sicke-minded Bride, Ile teach thee how,
To relish health a little: Taste this thought,
That when mine eyes seru’d loues commission,
Vpon thy beauties I did seise on them,
To a Kings vse; cure all thy griefe with this,
That his great seale was grauen vpon this ring,
And that I was but Steward to a King.
Exeunt.
A banquet set out: Enter Sir Vaughan, Horace, Asinius Bubo, Lady Petula, Dicache, Philocalia, Mistris Miniuer and Peter Flash.
Sir Vaugh. Ladies and Sentlemen, you are almost all welcome, to this sweet nuncions of Plums.
Dicach. Almost all Sir Vaughan? why to which of vs are you so niggardly, that you cut her out but a peice of welcome.
Sir Vaugh. My interpretations is that almost all are welcome, because I indited a brace or two more that is not come, I am sorrie my Ladie Pride is not among you.
Asi. Slid, he makes hounds of vs Ningle, a brace quoth a?
Sir Vaug. Peter Salamanders draw out the pictures of all the ioynt stooles, & Ladies sit downe vpon their wodden faces.
Flash. I warrant Sir, Ile giue euerie one of them a good stoole.