My lips are no common, though several they be.
Boyet. Belonging to whom?
Mar.
To my fortunes and me.
[224] Prin. Good wits will be jangling; but, gentles, agree:
225 This civil war of wits were much better used
On Navarre and his book-men; for here ’tis abused.
[227] Boyet. If my observation, which very seldom lies,
By the heart’s still rhetoric disclosed with eyes,
Deceive me not now, Navarre is infected.