AYMER

By gad, my Lord, you have the divi nest Taylor of Christendom; he hath made you look Like and Angel in your cloth of Tissue doublet. What, he that wears a clout about his neck, His cuffs in's pocket, and his heart in's mouth? That face would do well in a surplesse. He looks Like A Curryer when his hides grown deer. Come let's be gone. We are beleaguerd. Admirably, admirably, o sweet Lord! assuredly it's pity the worms should eat thee. I vow and affirm, your Taylor must needs be and ex pert Geometrician, he has the Longitude, Latitude, Alti tude, Profundity, every Dimension of your body, so ex quisitely, here's a lace laid as directly, as if truth were a Taylor. You are right, Mounsieur his vestaments fit: as if they grew upon him, or art had wrought they on the same loom, as nature framed his Lordship as if your Taylor were deeply read in Astrology, and had taken measure of your honourable body, with a Jacob's staff, and Ephimeri des. By the Lard, sweet Lard, thou deservest a pension o'the St to. Flatters, detracts, impairs, yet put it by, Lest thou deer Lord ( Narcissus -Like) should dote Upon thy self, and die and rob the world Of nature's copy, that she works form by. I'll never ask him, what he takes me for He has brought a battle in his face, let's go. Are you a Consort? A rascal? Offer to kick a Gentleman, in a Nobleman's cham ber? A pox of your manners We doubt the cause, and will not disparage you, so much as to take your Lordship's quarrel in hand. Plague on him, how he has crumpled our band . Let the Coach be brought Enter Aymiere. To the back gate, and serve the banquet up: My good Lord Charalo S, I think my house Much honoured in your presence. Had I been one hour sooner made acquainted With your intent my Lord, you should have found me Better provided: now such as it is, Pray you grace with your acceptance. Begin the last new air. This little distance from the instruments Will to your ears convey the harmony With more delight. You're tedious, By this means shall I with one banquet please Two companies, those within and these Gulls here. I would he were well of—perhaps your Lordship Likes not these sad tunes, I have a new Song Set to a lighter note, may please you better; It's called The happy husband. Stay him I am undone, And they discovered. Ah! That woe en, when they are well pleased, cannot hold, But must laugh out. Enter Nouall lu. Charaloys, Beaumely, Bellap rt. I prithee sing the song Devoted to my M . Cant. Music. A silent black.