Cand. A surgeon! run, a surgeon! [Exit 1st Prentice.] Why then wore you that forged name of cousin?
Fus. Because it’s a common thing to call coz, and ningle[178] now-a-days all the world over.
Cand. Cousin! A name of much deceit, folly, and sin,
For under that common abused word,
Many an honest-tempered citizen
Is made a monster, and his wife trained out
To foul adulterous action, full of fraud.
I may well call that word, a city’s bawd.
Fus. Troth, brother, my sister would needs ha’ me take upon me to gull your patience a little: but it has made double gules[179] on my coxcomb.
Vio. What, playing the woman? blabbing now, you fool?
Cand. Oh, my wife did but exercise a jest upon your wit.
Fus. ’Sfoot, my wit bleeds for’t, methinks.
Cand. Then let this warning more of sense afford;
The name of cousin is a bloody word.
Fus. I’ll ne’er call coz again whilst I live, to have such a coil about it; this should be a coronation day; for my head runs claret lustily. [Exit.
Cand. Go, wish[180] the surgeon to have great respect— [Exit 2nd Prentice.