Alon. Come on, sir. I am the quærent.
Mask. Meaning me, sir! I vow to God, and your worship knows it, I never made that science my study in the least, sir.
Bel. The gleanings of mine are enough for that: Why, you impudent rogue you, hold forth your gifts, or I'll—What a devil, must I be pestered with every trivial question, when there's not a master in town of any science, but has his usher for these mean offices?
Theo. Try him in some deeper question, sir; you see he will not put himself forth for this.
Alon. Then I'll be more abstruse with him: What think you, sir, of the taking Hyleg? or of the best way of rectification for a nativity? Have you been conversant in the Centiloquium of Trismegistus: What think you of Mars in the tenth, when 'tis his own house, or of Jupiter configurated with malevolent planets?
Bel. I thought what your skill was! to answer your question in two words, Mars rules over the martial, and Jupiter over the jovial; and so of the rest, sir.
Alon. This every school-boy could have told me.
Bel. Why then you must not ask such school-boy's questions. But your carcase, sirrah, shall pay for this.
[Aside to Maskall.
Alon. You seem not to understand the terms, sir.
Bel. By your favour, sir, I know there are five of them; do not I know your Michaelmas, your Hillary, your Easter, your Trinity, and your Long Vocation term, sir?