Cat. I’ll stop the barrel thus: good Dildo, set not fire to the touch-hole. 22
Dil. My rage is stopp’d, and I will eat to the health of the fool, thy master Castilio.
Cat. And I will suck the juice of the capon, to the health of the idiot, thy master Balurdo.
Dil. Faith, our masters are like a case[81] of rapiers sheathed in one scabbard of folly.
Cat. Right Dutch blades. But was’t not rare sport at the sea-battle, whilst rounce robble hobble roared from the ship-sides, to view our masters pluck their plumes and drop their feathers, for fear of being men of mark. 32
Dil. ’Slud (cried Signior Balurdo), O for Don Rosicleer’s[82] armour, in the Mirror of Knighthood! what coil’s here? O for an armour, cannon-proof! O, more cable, more featherbeds![83] more featherbeds, more cable!
till he had as much as my cable-hatband[84] to fence him.
Enter Flavia in haste, with a rebato.[85]
Cat. Buxom Flavia, can you sing? song, song!
Fla. My sweet Dildo, I am not for you at this time: Madam Rossaline stays for a fresh ruff to appear in the presence: sweet, away. 41