Sham. I never thought there had been half that virtue
In a wrung nose before.
Lap. Oh plenitude, Sir:
Now come we lower to our modern Kick,
Which has been mightily in use of late,
Since our young men drank Coltsfoot: and I grant you,
'Tis a most scornful wrong, cause the foot plays it;
But mark agen, how we that take't, requite it
With the like scorn, for we receive it backward;
And can there be a worse disgrace retorted?
Sham. And is this all?
Lap. All but a Lug by th' ear,
Or such a trifle.
Sham. Happy sufferer,
All this is nothing to the wrong I bear:
I see the worst disgrace, thou never felt'st yet;
It is so far from thee tho canst not think on't;
Nor dare I let thee know, it is so abject.
Lap. I would you would though, that I might prepare for't
For I shall ha't at one time or another:
If't be a thwack, I make account of that;
There's no new fashion'd swap that e'er came up yet,
But I've the first on 'em, I thank 'em for't.
Enter the Lady and Servants.
La. Hast thou enquir'd?
1 Serv. But can hear nothing, Madam.