R. JU. A jet ring! oh, the poesie, the poesie!

STEP. Fine, i'faith: "Though fancy sleep, my love is deep":
meaning that though I did not fancy her, yet she loved me dearly.

LOR. JU. Most excellent.

STEP. And then I sent her another, and my poesie was:
"The deeper the sweeter, I'll be judged by Saint Peter."

LOR. JU. How, by St. Peter? I do not conceive that.

STEP. Marry, St. Peter to make up the metre.

LOR JU. Well, you are beholding to that Saint, he help'd you at
your need; thank him, thank him.

MUS. I will venture, come what will: Gentlemen, please you change
a few crowns for a very excellent good blade here; I am a poor
gentleman, a soldier, one that (in the better state of my fortunes)
scorned so mean a refuge, but now it's the humour of necessity to
have it so: you seem to be, gentlemen, well affected to martial
men, else I should rather die with silence, than live with shame:
howe'er, vouchsafe to remember it is my want speaks, not myself:
this condition agrees not with my spirit.

LOR. JU. Where hast thou served?

MUS. May it please you, Signior, in all the provinces of Bohemia,
Hungaria, Dalmatia, Poland, where not? I have been a poor servitor
by sea and land, any time this xiiij. years, and follow'd the
fortunes of the best Commanders in Christendom. I was twice shot
at the taking of Aleppo, once at the relief of Vienna; I have been
at America in the galleys thrice, where I was most dangerously shot
in the head, through both the thighs, and yet, being thus maim'd,
I am void of maintenance, nothing left me but my scars, the noted
marks of my resolution.

STEP. How will you sell this rapier, friend?

MUS. Faith, Signior, I refer it to your own judgment; you are a
gentleman, give me what you please.

STEP. True, I am a gentleman, I know that; but what though, I pray
you say, what would you ask?

MUS. I assure you the blade may become the side of the best prince
in Europe.

LOR. JU. Ay, with a velvet scabbard.

STEP. Nay, an't be mine it shall have a velvet scabbard, that is
flat, I'd not wear it as 'tis an you would give me an angel.

MUS. At your pleasure, Signior, nay, it's a most pure Toledo.

STEP. I had rather it were a Spaniard: but tell me, what shall I
give you for it? an it had a silver hilt --

LOR. JU. Come, come, you shall not buy