And. Sure, this man,
Good tutor, was quite rotten.
Mean. See how you
Betray your breeding now. Quite rotten! 'Tis
Rottenness, perhaps, in footmen or in yeomen:
'Tis tenderness in gentlemen; they are
A little over-boil'd, or so.
Hear. He is
A churl, a hind, that's wholesome; some raw thing
That never was at London: one in whom
The clown is too predominant. Refin'd
People feel Naples in their bodies; and
An ache i' th' bones at sixteen passeth now
For high descent: it argues a great birth.
Low bloods are never worthy such infection.
And. Ay, but my father bid me I should live
Honest, and say my prayers; that he did.
Hear. If that you cannot sleep at any time, we do
Allow you to begin your pray'rs, that so
A slumber may seize on you.
Mean. But as for
Your living honest, 'twere to take away
A trade i' th' commonwealth! the surgeons'
Benefit would go down. You may go on
In foolish chastity, eat only salads,
Walk an unskilful thing, and be to learn
Something the first night of your wife; but that's
To marry out of fashion.
And. Here's no proofs,
No doctrines, nor no uses. Tutor, I
Would fain learn some religion.
Hear. Religion!
Yes, to become a martyr, and be pictur'd
With a long label out o' your mouth, like those
In Fox's book;[125] just like a juggler drawing
Riband out of his throat.
And. I must be gone.