Enter Balrudo.
Bal. Hold, hold, hold: are ye blind? could ye not see my voice coming for the harp? And I knock not division[170] on the head, take hence the harp, make me a slip,[171] and let me go but for ninepence. Sir Mark, strike up for master Balurdo.
Third Boy sings.
Judgment, gentlemen, judgment! Was’t not above line?
I appeal to your mouths that heard my song. 120
Do[172] me right, and dub me knight, Balurdo.
Ros. Kneel down, and I’ll dub thee knight of the golden harp.
Bal. Indeed, law, do, and I’ll make you lady of the silver fiddlestick.
Ros. Come, kneel, kneel.
Enter a Page to Balurdo.
Bal. My troth, I thank you, it hath never a whistle in’t.
Ros. Nay, good sweet coz, raise up your drooping eyes; and I were at the point of To have and to hold from this day forward, I would be asham’d to look thus lumpish. What, my pretty coz, ’tis but the loss of an odd maidenhead. 133
Shall’s dance? thou art so sad, hark in thine[173] ear:
I was about to say, but I’ll forbear.