Mil. It shall goe hard but this peace shall bring us some pleasure.
Phry. Downe with armes, and up with legges! This is a world for the nonce![957]
Lais. Sweet youths, if you knew[958] what it were to save your sweet blood, you would not so foolishly go about to spend it. 5 What delight can there be in gashing, to make foule scarres in faire faces, and crooked maimes in streight legges, as though men, being borne goodly by nature, would of purpose become deformed by folly,—and all, forsooth for a new-found tearme, called valiant, a word which breedeth more quarrels than the sense can commendation? 10
Mil. It is true, Lais, a feather-bed hath no fellow. Good drinke makes good blood, and shall pelting[959] words spill it?
Phry. I meane to enjoy the world, and to draw out my life at the wire-drawers; not to curtall it off at the cutlers. 15
Lais. You may talke of warre, speake bigge, conquer worlds with great words; but stay at home, where in steade of alarums you shall have dances, for hot battailes with fierce men, gentle skirmishes with faire women. These pewter coates[960] can never sit so well as satten doublets. Beleeve me, you cannot conceive the 20 pleasure of peace unlesse you despise the rudenes of warre.
Mil. It is so. But see Diogenes prying over his tub! Diogenes what sayest thou to such a morsell? [Pointing to Lais.]
Diog. I say I would spit it out of my mouth, because it should not poyson my stomacke. 25
Phry. Thou speakest as thou art; it is noe meate for dogges.
Diog. I am a dogge, and philosophy rates[961] me from carrion.