Sol. I was within a Hair's Breadth of losing my Life.
Cart. Why, what Mischief was there?
Sol. As one was drawing a Steel Cross-bow, it broke, and a Splinter of it hit me in the Forehead.
Cart. You have got a Scar upon your Cheek that is above a Span long.
Sol. I got this Wound in a Battel.
Cart. In what Battel, in the Field?
Sol. No, but in a Quarrel that arose at Dice.
Cart. And I see I can't tell what Sort of Rubies on your Chin.
Sol. O they are nothing.
Cart. I suspect that you have had the Pox.