Sir Vau. The same M. Horace, he that has but a remnant or parcell of haire, his crowne is clipt and par’d away; me thinkes tis an excellent quallitie to bee balde; for and there stucke a nose and two nyes in his pate, he might weare two faces vnder one hood.
Asi. As God saue me la, if I might ha my will, Ide rather be a balde Gentleman then a hairy; for I am sure the best and tallest Yeomen in England haue balde heads: me thinkes haire is a scuruie lowsie commodity.
Hor. Bubo, heerein you blaze your ignorance.
Sir Vau. Pray stop and fill your mouthes, and giue M. Horace all your eares.
Hor. For, if of all the bodies parts, the head
Be the most royall: if discourse, wit, Iudgement,
And all our vnderstanding faculties,
Sit there in their high Court of Parliament,
Enacting lawes to sway this humorous world:
This little Ile of Man: needes must that crowne,
Which stands vpon this supreame head, be faire,
And helde inualuable, and that crowne’s the Haire:
The head that wants this honour stands awry,
Is bare in name and in authority.
Sir Vau. He meanes balde-pates Mistris Miniuers.
Hor. Haire, tis the roabe which curious nature weaues,
To hang vpon the head: and does adorne,
Our bodies in the first houre we are borne:
God does bestow that garment: when we dye,
That (like a soft and silken Canopie)
Is still spred ouer vs; In spight of death
Our hayre growes in our graue, and that alone
Lookes fresh, when all our other beauty’s gone.
The excellence of Haire, in this shines cleere,
That the foure Elements take pride to weare
The fashion of it: when Fire most bright does burne,
The flames to golden lockes doe striue to turne;
When her lasciuious armes the Water hurles,
About the shoares wast, her sleeke head she curles:
And rorid cloudes being suckt into the Ayre,
When downe they melt, hangs like fine siluer hayre.
You see the Earth (whose head so oft is shorne)
Frighted to feele her lockes so rudely torne,
Stands with her haire an end, and (thus afraide)
Turnes euery haire to a greene naked blade.
Besides, when (strucke with griefe) we long to dye,
We spoile that most, which most does beautifie,
We rend this Head-tyre off. I thus conclude,
Cullors set cullors out; our eyes iudge right,
Of vice or vertue by their opposite:
So, if faire haire to beauty ad such grace,
Baldnes must needes be vgly, vile and base.
Sir Vau. True M. Horace, for a bald reason, is a reason that has no haires vpon’t, a scuruy scalded reason.
Mi. By my truely I neuer thought you could ha pickt such strange things out of haire before.
Asini. Nay my Ningle can tickle it, when hee comes too’t.