Sham. Of what profession art thou, tell me Sir,
Besides a Tailor? for I'll know the truth.
Lap. A Tailor? I'm as good a Gentleman—
Can shew my Arms and all.
Sham. How black and blew they are!
Is that your manifestation? upon pain
Of pounding thee to dust, assume not wrongfully
The name of Gentleman, because I'm one,
That must not let thee live.
Lap. I have done, I have done Sir.
If there be any harm, beshrew the Herald,
I'm sure I ha' not been so long a Gentleman,
To make this anger: I have nothing no where,
But what I dearly pay for. [Exit.
Sham. Groom begone;
I never was so heart-sick yet of man.
Enter Lady, the Duke's Sister, Lapet's wife.
1 Gent. Here comes a cordial, Sir, from th'other sex,
Able to make a dying face look chearful.
Sham. The blessedness of Ladies—.
Lady. Y'are well met Sir.
Sham. The sight of you has put an evil from me,
Whose breath was able to make virtue sicken.