Dil. Your teeth.
Bal. By my golden teeth, hold up, that I may put in: hold up, I say, that I may see to put on my gloves.
Dil. O, delicious, sweet-cheek’d master, if you discharge but one glance from the level of that set face, O, you will strike a wench; you’ll make any wench love you.
Bal. By Jesu, I think I am as elegant a courtier as——. How likest thou my suit?
Cat. All, beyond all, no peregal:[125] you are wondered at—[Aside.] for an ass. 141
Bal. Well, Dildo, no Christen creature shall know hereafter, what I will do for thee heretofore.
Ros. Here wants a little white, Flavia.
Dil. Ay, but, master, you have one little fault; you sleep open-mouth’d.
Bal. Pew, thou jest’st. In good sadness, I’ll have a looking-glass nail’d to the testern of the bed, that I may see when I sleep whether ’tis so or not; take heed you lie not: go to, take heed you lie not. 150
Fla. By my troth, you look as like the princess, now—Ay—but her lip is—lip is—a little——redder, a very little redder.