Ape. Thy Mothers of my generation: what's she, if I
be a Dogge?
Tim. Wilt dine with me Apemantus?
Ape. No: I eate not Lords
Tim. And thou should'st, thoud'st anger Ladies
Ape. O they eate Lords;
So they come by great bellies
Tim. That's a lasciuious apprehension
Ape. So, thou apprehend'st it,
Take it for thy labour
Tim. How dost thou like this Iewell, Apemantus?
Ape. Not so well as plain-dealing, which wil not cast
a man a Doit
Tim. What dost thou thinke 'tis worth?
Ape. Not worth my thinking.
How now Poet?
Poet. How now Philosopher?
Ape. Thou lyest
Poet. Art not one?
Ape. Yes
Poet. Then I lye not
Ape. Art not a Poet?
Poet. Yes