Page:The Works of Ben Jonson - Gifford - Volume 4.djvu/33

 That look as big as five-and-fifty, and flush; And spit out secrets like hot custard—

Dap.Captain!

Face.Nor any melancholic under-scribe, Shall tell the vicar; but a special gentle, That is the heir to forty marks a year, Consorts with the small poets of the time, Is the sole hope of his old grandmother; That knows the law, and writes you six fair hands, Is a fine clerk, and has his cyphering perfect. Will take his oath o' the Greek Testament, If need be, in his pocket; and can court His mistress out of Ovid.

Dap.Nay, dear captain

Face.Did you not tell me so?

Dap.Yes; but I'd have you Use master doctor with some more respect.

Face.Hang him, proud stag, with his broad velvet head!— But for your sake, I'd choak, ere I would change An article of breath with such a puckfist: Come, let's be gone.