Clo. But it is your [carbonadoed] face.
[Laf.] Let us go see your son, I pray you: I long to
talk with the young noble [soldier].
95
Clo. Faith, there's a dozen of 'em, with delicate fine
hats and most courteous feathers, which bow the head and
nod at every man. [Exeunt.
LINENOTES:
[Scene v.] Scene viii. Pope.