Lod. Why, well enough;
Trail his Pike under him, and be a Gentlewoman
Of the brave Captains Company.
Fred. Do you hear me?
This woman is my Sister, Gentlemen.
Lod. I am glad she is none of mine; but Frederick
Thou art not such a fool sure to be angry
Unless it be with her; we are thy friends, man.
Fred. I think ye are.
Lod. Yes, 'faith, and do but tell thee
How she will utterly overthrow her credit,
If she continue gracing of this pot-gun.
Piso. I think she was bewitcht, or mad or blind,
She would never have taken such a scar-Crow else
Into protection; of my life he looks
Of a more rusty swarth Complexion
Than an old arming Doublet.
Lod. I would send
His face to the Cutlers then, and have it sanguin'd,
'Twill look a great deal sweeter; then his Nose
I would have shorter, and my reason is,
His face will be ill mounted else.
Piso. For his Body,
I will not be my own Judge, lest I seem
A Railer, but let others look upon't,
And if they find it any other thing
Than a Trunk-sellar, to send wines down in,
Or a long walking bottle, I'll be hang'd for't;
His Hide (for sure he is a Beast) is ranker
Than the Muscovy-Leather, and grain'd like it:
And by all likelihoods he was begotten
Between a stubborn pair of Winter-boots;
His body goes with straps, he is so churlish.
Lod. He's poor and beggarly besides all this,
And of a nature far uncapable
Of any benefit; for his manners cannot
Shew him a way to thank a man that does one,
He's so uncivil; you may do a part
Worthy a Brother, to perswade your Sister
From her undoing; if she prove so foolish
To marry this cast Captain, look to find her
Within a month, where you, or any good man,
Would blush to know her; selling cheese and prunes,
And retail'd Bottle-Ale; I grieve to think,
Because I lov'd her, what a march this Captain
Will set her into.
Fred. You are both, believe me,
Two arrant Knaves, and were it not for taking
So just an execution from his hands
You have bely'd thus, I would swaddle ye,
Till I could draw off both your skins like Scabbards.
That man that you have wrong'd thus, though to me
He be a stranger, yet I know so worthy,
However low in fortune, that his worst parts,
The very wearing of his Cloaths, would make
Two better Gentlemen than you dare be,
For there is vertue in his outward things.