Ast. The women, they say, are very fair.
Lod. No, no, our country buona-robas,[234] oh! are the sugarest, delicious rogues!
Ast. Oh, look, he has a feeling of them!
Lod. Not I, I protest. There’s a saying when they commend nations. It goes, the Irishman for his hand, the Welshman for a leg, the Englishman for a face, the Dutchman for a beard.
Fon. I’faith, they may make swabbers of them.
Lod. The Spaniard,—let me see,—for a little foot, I take it; the Frenchman,—what a pox hath he? and so of the rest. Are they at breakfast yet? come walk.
Ast. This Lodovico is a notable tongued fellow.
Fon. Discourses well.
Ber. And a very honest gentleman.