Mat. A horned devil? Good: ha, ha, ha!—very good!
Alb. Good tann’d prince, laugh not. By the joys of love,
When thou dost girn,[214] thy rusty face doth look
Like the head of a roasted rabbit: fie upon’t!
Bal. By my troth, methinks his nose is just colour de roy.[215]
Mat. I tell thee, fool, my nose will abide no jest. 80
Bal. No, in truth, I do not jest; I speak truth. Truth is the touchstone of all things; and, if your nose will not abide the truth, your nose will not abide the touch; and, if your nose will not abide the touch, your nose is a copper nose, and must be nail’d up for a slip.[216]
Mat. I scorn to retort the obtuse jest of a fool.
[Balurdo draws out his writing tables, and writes.
Bal. Retort and obtuse, good words, very good words.
Gal. Young prince, look sprightly; fie, a bridegroom sad!
Bal. In truth, if he were retort and obtuse, no question he would be merry; but, and please my genius, I will be most retort and obtuse ere night. I’ll tell you what I’ll bear soon at night in my shield, for my device. 92