Jack. Hold up, Father Grim.
Grim. Me-seem my head doth swim.
Jack. My costly perfumes make that. Away with this, sir boy: be quick.
Aloyse, aloyse,[122] how pretty it is! is not here a good face?
A fine owl’s eyes, a mouth like an oven.
Father, you have good butter-teeth full seen.
[Aside] You were weaned, else you would have been a great calf.
Ah trim lips to sweep a manger! here is a chin,
As soft as the hoof of an horse.
Grim. Doth the king’s daughters rub so hard?