Fab. Art thou not breeding teeth?
Jac. How? Teeth?
Fab. Yes, teeth, thou wouldst not be so froward else.
Jac. Teeth?
Fab. Come, 'Twill make thee
A little rheumatick, but that's all one,
We'll have a Bib, for spoiling of thy Doublet;
And a fring'd Muckender hang at thy Girdle,
I'll be thy Nurse, and get a Coral for thee,
And a fine Ring of Bells.
Jac. 'Faith, this is somewhat
Too much, Fabricio, to your friend that loves you;
Methinks your goodness rather should invent
A way to make my follies less, than breed 'em;
I should have been more moderate to you,
But I see ye despise me.
Fab. Now I love ye,
There, take your Sword: continue so; I dare not
Stay now to try your patience, soon I'll meet ye,
And as you love your honours, and your state,
Redeem your self well to the Gentlewoman,
Farewel till soon. [Exit Fabricio.
Jac. Well, I shall think of this. [Exit Jacomo.
SCENE [VI].
Enter Host, Piso, and Boy with a Glass of Wine.