Idle. 'Twool not bide on? 'Twould if it could!
But marvel it were that it should—
Science['s] garment on Ingnorancy['s] back!
But now, let's see, sir! what do ye lack?
Nothing but even to buckle here this throat,
So well this Wit becometh a fool's coat!
Ingn. He is I, now!
Idle. Yea; how likest him now?
Is he not a fool as well as thou?
Ingn. Yeas!
Idle. Well, then, one fool keep another!
Give me this, and take thou that, brother!
Ingn. Um-m—
Idle. Pike thee home, go!
Ingn. Chill go tell my moother! [Exit.
Idle. Yea, do!
But yet, to take my leave of my dear, lo!
With a skip or twain, here lo! and here lo!
And, here again! and now, this heel
To bless his weak brain! Now are ye weel,
By virtue of Idleness' blessing tool,
Conjured from Wit unto a stark fool! [Exit Idleness.
Confidence cometh in with a sword by his side; and sayeth as followeth: