ght, or so, and shew'd them
enough to the world, you may turn them away, and keep no more but a boy,
it's enough.

SOG. Nay, my humour is not for boys, I'll keep men, an I keep any; and
I'll give coats, that's my humour: but I lack a cullisen.

CAR. Why, now you ride to the city, you may buy one; I'll bring you where
you shall have your choice for money.

SOG. Can you, sir?

CAR. O, ay: you shall have one take measure of you, and make you a coat
of arms to fit you, of what fashion you will.

SOG. By word of mouth, I thank you, signior; I'll be once a little
prodigal in a humour, i'faith, and have a most prodigious coat.

MAC. Torment and death! break head and brain at once,
To be deliver'd of your fighting issue.
Who can endure to see blind Fortune dote thus?
To be enamour'd on this dusty turf,
This clod, a whoreson puck-fist! O G----!
I could run wild with grief now, to behold
The rankness of her bounties, that doth breed
Such bulrushes; these mushroom gentlemen,
That shoot up in a night to place and worship.

CAR. [SEEING MACILENTE.] Let him alone; some stray, some stray.

SOG. Nay, I will examine him before I go, sure.

CAR. The lord of the soil has all wefts and strays here, has he not?

SOG. Yes, sir.

CAR. Faith then I pity the poor fellow, he's fallen into a fool's hands.
[ASIDE.

SOG. Sirrah, who gave you a commission to lie in my lordship?

MAC. Your lordship!

SOG. How! my lordship? do you know me, sir?

MAC. I do know you, sir.

CAR. He answers him like an echo.
[ASIDE.

SOG. Why, Who am I, sir?

MAC. One of those that fortune favours.

CAR. The periphrasis of a fool. I'll observe this better.
[ASIDE.

SOG. That fortune favours! how mean you that, friend?

MAC. I mean simply: that you are one that lives not by your wits.

SOG. By my wits! no sir, I scorn to live by my wits, I. I have better
means, I tell thee, than to take such base courses, as to live by my wits.
What, dost thou think I live by my wits?

MAC. Methinks, jester, you should not relish this well.

CAR. Ha! does he know me?

MAC. Though yours be the worst use a man can put his wit to, of thousands,
to prostitute it at every tavern and ordinary; yet, methinks, you should
have turn'd your broadside at this, and have been ready with an apology