HAM.
Do they hold the same estimation they did when I was in the city? Are they so followed?
ROS.
No, indeed they are not.
HAM.
How comes it? Do they grow rusty?
ROS.
Nay, their endeavour keeps in the wonter place; but there is, sir, an eyrie of children, little eyeases, that cry out on the top of question and are most tyranically clapped for ’t. These are now the fashion, and so berattle the common stages—so they call them—that many wearing rapiers are afraid of goose-quills, and dare scarce come thither.
HAM.