_Lew_. These Notaries are notable confident Knaves,
And able to doe more mischeife than an Army:
Are all your clauses sure? _Not_. Sure as proportion,
They may turne Rivers sooner than these writings.

_Not_. Why did you not put all the lands in, Sir?

_Lew_. Twas not condition'd. _Not_. If it had been found,
It had been but a fault made in the writing;
If not found all the Land. _Lew_. These are small Devils
That care not who has misch[ie]fe, so they make it;
They live upon the meere scent of dissension.
Tis well, tis well, Are you contented Girle?
For your wil must be known. _Ang_. A husband's welcom,
And as an humble wife He entertaine him,
No soveraignty I aime at, 'tis the mans Sir,
For she that seekes it, killes her husbands Honour:
The Gentleman I have scene, and well observ'd him,
Yet find not that grac'd excellence you promise,
A pretty Gentle man and he may please too,
And some few flashes I have hear'd come from him,
But not to admiration as to others;
Hee's young and may be good, yet he must make it,
And I may help, and help to thank him also.
It is your pleasure I should make him mine,
And't has beene still my duty to observe you.

_Lew_. Why then let's go, And I shall love your modesty.
To horse, and bring the Coach out _Angellina_,
To morrow you will looke more womanly.

_Ang_. So I looke honestly, I feare no eyes, Sir. _Exeunt._

_Actus III. Scaena II._

Brisac, Andrew, Cooke, Lilly.

Wait on your Master, he shall have that befits him;

_And_. No inheritance, Sir? _Bri_. You speak like a foole, a coxcomb,
He shall have annual meanes to buy him bookes,
And find him cloathes and meat, what would he more?
Trouble him with Land? tis flat against his nature:
I love him too, and honour those gifts in him.

_And_. Shall Master _Eustace_ have all? _Bri_. All, all, he knowes how
To use it, hee's a man bred in the world,
T'other ith' heavens: my Masters, pray be wary,
And serviceable; and Cooke see all your sawces
Be sharp and poynant in the pallat, that they may
Commend you; looke to your roast and bak'd meates hansomly,
And what new kickshawes and delicate made things--
Is th' musick come? _But_. Yes Sir, th'are here at breakfast.

_Bri_. There will be a Masque too, you must see this roome clean,
And _Butler_ your doore open to all good fellowes,
But have an eye to your plate, for their be Furies;
My _Lilly_ welcome, you are for the linnen,
Sort it, and see it ready