Tim. What bugbear has your terrible bladeship brought us here? A mandate from one of our own society to blanch the credit of our comedy! You're in a wrong box, sir; this will not do't.
Hax. You dare not disobey it!
Tim. Dare not! A word of high affront to a professed Parnassian! I dare exchange in pen with you and your penurious poetaster's pike; and if your valour or his swell to that height or heat as it will admit no other cooler but a downright scuffle, let wit perish and fall a-wool-gathering, if with a cheerful brow I leave not the precious rills of Hippocrene, and wing my course for Campus Martius.
Hax. 'Slid, this Musæus is a Martialist; and if I had not held him a feverish white-livered staniel,[108] that would never have encountered any but the Seven Sisters, that knight of the sun[109] who employed me should have done his errand himself. Well, I would I were out of his clutches! The only way, then, is to put on a clear face, lest I bring a storm upon myself. [Aside.] Virtuous sir, what answer will your ingenuity be pleased to return by your most humble and obsequious vassal?
Tim. Ho! sir, are you there with you[r] bears? How this Gargantua's spirit begins to thaw! Sirrah, you punto[110] of valour!
Hax. I have, indeed, puissant sir, been in my time rallied amongst those blades; but it has been my scorn of late to engage my tuck upon unjust grounds.
Tim. Tucca, thy valour is infinitely beholden to thy discretion. But, pray thee, resolve me: art thou made known to the purport of thine errand?
Hax. In part I am.
Tim. And partly I will tell thee; this squirt-squib wherewith that pragmatical monopolist Nasutius Neapolitanus has here employed thee to obstruct our action shall be received and returned with as much scorn as it was sent us with spiteful impudence! Let him come if he like; he may trouble himself and his own impoverished patience, but we shall slight him on our stage, and tax him of frontless insolence.
Hax. You shall do well, sir.