Sir Silas.
“He wants a rope’s-end; and a rope’s-end is not enough for him, unless we throw in the other.”
Sir Thomas.
“Peradventure he may be an instrument, a potter’s clay, a type, a token.
“I have seen many young men, and none like unto him. He is shallow but clear; he is simple, but ingenuous.”
Sir Silas.
“Drag the ford again, then. In my mind he is as deep as the big tankard; and a mouthful of rough burrage will be the beginning and end of it.”
Sir Thomas.
“No fear of that. Neither, if rightly reported by the youngster, is there so much doctrine in the doctor as we expected. He doth not dwell upon the main; he is worldly; he is wise in his generation,—he says things out of his own head.
“Silas, that can’t hold! We want props—fulcrums, I think you called ’em to the farmers; or was it stimulums?”