Pet. Whoa, here's a stir now: sing a song o' six pence,
By —— (if) prethee; —— on't: Junius.
Jun. I must either sing; or laugh.
Pet. And what's your reason?
Jun. What's that to you?
Pet. And I must whistle.
Jun. Do so.
Oh, I hear 'em coming.
Pet. I have a little business.
Jun. Thou shall not go, believe it: what a Gentleman
Of thy sweet conversation?
Pet. Captain Junius,
Sweet Captain, let me go with all celerity;
Things are not always one: and do not question,
Nor jeer, nor gybe: none of your doleful Ditties,
Nor your sweet conversation, you will find then
I may be anger'd.
Jun. By no means, Petillius;
Anger a man that never knew passion?
'Tis most impossible: a noble Captain,
A wise [and] generous Gentleman?