Tony. Some come to gape, those are my fellow fools;
Some to get home their wives, those be their own fools;
Some to rejoyce with thee, those be the times fools;
And some I fear to curse thee, those are poor fools,
Enter Cassand[ra], an old Lady passing over.
A set people call them honest. Look, look King, look,
A weather-beaten Lady new caresn'd.
Fred. An old one.
Tony. The glasses of her eyes are new rub'd over,
And the worm-eaten records in her face are daub'd up neatly?
She layes her breasts out too, like to poch'd eggs
That had the yelks suckt out; they get new heads also,
New teeth, new tongues, for the old are all worn out,
And as 'tis hop'd, new tayls.
Fred. For what?
Tony. For old Courtiers,
The young ones are too stirring for their travels.
Fred. Go leave your knavery, and help to keep the door well,
I will have no such press.
Tony. Lay thy hand o'thy heart King.
Fred. I'le have ye whipt.