Jaco. Well said, perfumer.
Alb. A fiddler,—a scraper,—a minikin-tickler,—a pum, a pum!—even now a perfumer,—now a fiddler!—I will be even What You Will. Do, do, do, k-k-k-kiss my wife be-be-be-be-fore——
Qua. Why, wouldst have him kiss her behind?
Alb. Before my own f-f-f-face! 340
Jaco. Well done, fiddler!
Alb. I’ll f-f-fiddle ye!
Alb. Dost m-m-m-mock me?
Fran. I’ll to the duke. I’ll p-p-p-paste up infamies on every post.
Jaco. ’Twas rarely, rarely done. Away, away! 347