San. Why, next my honour, one colonel Sancho did best.
Lop. Who, Sancho? he's little better than a coxcomb.
San. Nay, he has too much wit; if he had as much grace, 'twould be better for him.
Lop. But he's your lordship's rival in my daughter.
San. Is he so? then make much of him, old gentleman.
Lop. You would not have me prefer him to your excellency?
San. Faith, you can hardly chuse amiss betwixt us two; he's my other self, man.
Lop. I make a vast difference betwixt you.
San. That shall be a very good jest between you and me another time.