Tel. That cannot be, he lay in Gloves all night, and this morning I brought him a new Periwig, with a lock at it, and knockt up a swing in's chamber.
Tim. O but since, his Taylor came, and they have fallen out about the fashion on's cloaths: and yonders a fellow come, has board a hole in's ear; and he has bespoke a Vaulting-horse, you shall see him come forth presently: he looks like Winter, stuck here and there with fresh flowers.
Tela. Will he not Tilt think you?
Tima. I think he will.
Tela. What does he mean to doe?
Tim. I know not: but by this light I think he is in love; he wou'd ha' bin shav'd but for me.
Tela. In love with whom?
Tim. I could guess, but you shall pardon me: he will take me along with him some-whither.
Tela. I overheard him ask your opinion of some bodies beauty.
Tima. Yes, there it goes, that makes him so youthfull, and h'as layd by his Crutch, and halts now with a leading staff.