ARMADO.
Why, sadness is one and the selfsame thing, dear imp.
MOTH.
No, no, O Lord, sir, no.
ARMADO.
How canst thou part sadness and melancholy, my tender juvenal?
MOTH.
By a familiar demonstration of the working, my tough signior.
ARMADO.
Why tough signior? Why tough signior?
MOTH.
Why tender juvenal? Why tender juvenal?
ARMADO.
I spoke it, tender juvenal, as a congruent epitheton appertaining to thy young days, which we may nominate tender.
MOTH.
And I, tough signior, as an appertinent title to your old time, which we may name tough.
ARMADO.
Pretty and apt.
MOTH.
How mean you, sir? I pretty and my saying apt, or I apt, and my saying pretty?