Phy. What meanst thou, Boy?
Boy. The weather, sir.
Phy. I meane my haire and face, Boy.
Boy. Twere amiable if it would not alter.
Phy. Wherfore I often repaire it.
Boy. Me thinkes that should weare it the sooner.
Phy. Not so Boy, for to trimme the Hayer well is a rare qualitie; to bee rarelye quallified is to be wise; apply, Boy.
Boy. That you are wise in trimming your hayre, Maister?
Phy. Right, to be wise is to be rare, for it is rare to see a wise man.
Boy. True, Maister, but if youle see a foole, looke in your Glasse, maister!