Rod. Gris. Ha, ha, ha!
Ferd. Why do you laugh? methinks you that are courtiers should be my touchwood, take fire when I give fire; that is, laugh but when I laugh, were the subject never so witty.
Cast. True, my lord: I myself have heard a very good jest, and have scorned to seem to have so silly a wit as to understand it.
Ferd. But I can laugh at your fool, my lord.
Cast. He cannot speak, you know, but he makes faces: my lady cannot abide him.
Ferd. No?
Cast. Nor endure to be in merry company; for she says too much laughing, and too much company, fills her too full of the wrinkle.
Ferd. I would, then, have a mathematical instrument made for her face, that she might not laugh out of compass.—I shall shortly visit you at Milan, Lord Silvio.
Silvio. Your grace shall arrive most welcome.
Ferd. You are a good horseman, Antonio: you have excellent riders in France: what do you think of good horsemanship?