Tut. Nobly answer'd,
Born for his Countrey first.
Euph. A great Philosopher:
What Horses do you prefer?
Onos. The white horse Sir,
There where I lye; honest and a just beast.
Tut. O caput lepidum: a Child to say this,
Are these figures for the mouths of Infants?
Con. Onos, what wenches?
Come, tell me true.
On. I cannot speak without book.
Con. When shall we have one, ha?
On. Steal me from mine Unckle,
For look you, I am broke out horribly
For want of fleshly Physick: they say I am too young,
And that 'twill spoyle my growth but could you help me?
Con. Meet me to morrow man, no more.
Euph. You think now
Ye have open'd such a shame to me of travell,
By shewing these thin Cubs: ye have honour'd us
Against your will, proclaim'd us excellent:
Three Frails of Sprats carried from Mart, to Mart,
Are as much Meat as these, to more use travell'd;
A bunch of bloted fools: me thinks your judgment
Should look abroad sometimes without your envy.