Due. So put it into your Heart—my Lord, to do Justice.
Fleet. Amen.
Due. I’d rather see it there than in your Hand— [Aside.
Fleet. For we are, as it were, a Body without a Head; or, to speak more learnedly, an Animal inanimate.
Hew. My Lord, let us use, as little as we can, the Language of the Beast, hard Words; none of your Eloquence, it savoureth of Monarchy.
Lam. My Lord, you must give Men of Quality leave to speak in a Language more gentile and courtly than the ordinary sort of Mankind.
Hew. My Lord, [I am sorry] to hear there are any of Quality among this honourable Dissembly. [Stands up.
Cob. Assembly, my Lord—
Hew. Well, you know my meaning; or if there be any such, I’m sorry they should own themselves of Quality.
Due. How! own themselves Gentlemen! Death, Sir, d’ye think we were all born Coblers?