This hole in thy fury didst thou disclose,
That now may a tent be put in, so big as thy nose.
This was, when my dame called thee bottle-nosed knave,
But I am like to carry the mark to my grave.
Lu. O my good boy, be not afraid,
For no such thing hath happened, as thou hast said.
But come to me, my boy, and bless thee I will,
And see that my precepts thou do fulfil.
New. Well, godfather, if you will say ought to me in this case,
Speak, for in faith I mean not to kneel to that ill face.