_1 Ush._ Why, whither would ye all press?

_1 Cit._ Good Master Usher.

_2 Cit._ My wife, and some few of my honest neighbours, here.

_1 Ush._ Prethee begone thou and thy honest Neighbours,
Thou lookst like an Ass, why, whither would you fish face?

_2 Cit._ If I might have
But the honour to see you at my poor house, Sir,
A Capon bridled and sadled, I'le assure your worship,
A shoulder of Mutton and a pottle of Wine, Sir,
I know your Brother, he was like ye,
And shot the best at Buts--

_1 Ush._ A ---- upon thee.

_2 Cit._ Some Musick I'le assure you too,
My toy, Sir, can play o'th' Virginals.

_1 Ush._ Prethee good toy,
Take away thy shoulder of Mutton, it is flie-blown,
And shoulder take thy flap along, here's no place for ye;
Nay then you had best be knock'd. [_Ex. Cit._

_Enter_ Celia.

_Cel._ I wou'd fain see him,