Alex. Gallants of note and quality; he that sits taking tobacco is a captain, Captain Carvegut.
Tim. He will not make a capon of me, will he?
Alex. Are you not my brother? He that pours out the sparkling sprightly claret is a lieutenant under him, Lieutenant Bottom. He was a serjeant first.
Tim. Of the Poultry or of Wood Street?
Alex. Of the Poultry?[52] of a woodcock! A serjeant in the field, a man of blood.
Tim. I'll take my leave, brother, I am in great haste.
Alex. That delicate, sweet young gentlewoman——
Tim. Foh! this tobacco!
Alex. That bears the blush of morning on her cheeks,
Whose eyes are like a pair of talking twins.
Tim. She looks just upon me.