Beau. By this kisse,
And this, and this.
Nou. That you would euer sweare thus. [100]
Rom. If I seeme rude, your pardon, Lady; yours
I do not aske: come, do not dare to shew mee
A face of anger, or the least dislike.
Put on, and suddaily a milder looke,
I shall grow rough else.
Nou. What haue I done, Sir, [105]
To draw this harsh vnsauory language from you?
Rom. Done, Popinjay? why, dost thou thinke that if
I ere had dreamt that thou hadst done me wrong,
Thou shouldest outliue it?
Beau. This is something more
Then my Lords friendship giues commission for. [110]
Nou. Your presence and the place, makes him presume
Vpon my patience.
Rom. As if thou ere wer’t angry
But with thy Taylor, and yet that poore shred
Can bring more to the making vp of a man,
Then can be hop’d from thee: thou art his creature, [115]
And did hee not each morning new create [thee]
Thou wouldst stinke and be forgotten. Ile not change
On syllable more with thee, vntill thou bring
Some testimony vnder good mens hands,
Thou art a Christian. I suspect thee strongly, [120]
And wilbe satisfied: till which time, keepe from me.
The entertaiment of your visitation
Has made what I intended on a businesse.
Nou. So wee shall meete—Madam.
Rom. Vse that legge again,
And Ile cut off the other.