Gas. You term those enemies,
Are men of princely rank.


Lodo. Oh, I pray for them:
The violent thunder is adored by those
Are pasht in pieces by it.


Ant. Come, my lord,
You are justly doom'd; look but a little back
Into your former life: you have in three years
Ruin'd the noblest earldom.


Gas. Your followers
Have swallowed you, like mummia, and being sick
With such unnatural and horrid physic,
Vomit you up i' th' kennel.


Ant. All the damnable degrees
Of drinking have you stagger'd through. One citizen,
Is lord of two fair manors, call'd you master,
Only for caviare.


Gas. Those noblemen
Which were invited to your prodigal feasts,