PIP. Magister, quomodo vales?

AMIN.  Is that responsio fitting my demand?

PIP. Etiam certe, you ask me where I have been, and I say quomodo vales, as much as to say, come out of the alehouse.

AMIN.  Untruss, untruss! nay, help him, help him!

PIP. Quaeso, preceptor, quaeso, for God’s sake do not whip me:  Quid est grammatica?

AMIN.  Not whip you, quid est grammatica, what’s that?

PIP. Grammatica est, that, if I untruss’d, you must needs whip me upon them, quid est grammatica.

AMIN.  Why, then, dic mihi, speak, where hast thou been?

PIP.  Forsooth, my mistress sent me of an errand to fetch my master from the Exchange; we had strangers at home at dinner, and, but for them, I had not come tarde; quaeso, preceptor!

AMIN.  Construe your lesson, parse it, ad unguem
et condemnato to, I’ll pardon thee.

PIP.  That I will, master, an’ if you’ll give me leave.

AMIN. Propria quae maribus tribuuntur mascula, dicas; expone, expone.

PIP.  Construe it, master, I will; dicas, they say—­propria, the proper man—­quae maribus, that loves marrow-bones—­mascula, miscalled me.

AMIN.  A pretty, quaint, and new construction.

PIP.  I warrant you, master, if there be marrow-bones in my lesson, I am an old dog at them.  How construe you this, master, rostra disertus amat?

AMIN. Disertus, a desert—­amat, doth love—­rostra, roast-meat.

PIP.  A good construction on an empty stomach.  Master, now I have construed my lesson, my mistress would pray you to let me come home to go of an errand.

AMIN.  Your tres sequuntur, and away.

PIP. Canis a hog, rana a dog, porcus a frog,
Abeundum est mihi. [Exit.

AMIN.  Yours, sirrah, too, and then ad prandium.

1ST BOY. Apis a bed, genu a knee, Vulcanus, Doctor Dee:  Viginti minus usus est mihi.

AMIN.  By Juno’s lip and Saturn’s thumb
It was bonus, bona, bonum.

2D BOY. Vitrum glass, spica grass, tu es asinus, you are an ass. Precor tibi felicem noctem.

AMIN. Claudite jam libros, pueri:  sat, prata, bibistis,
Look, when you come again, you tell me ubi fuistis. 
He that minds trish-trash, and will not have care of his rodix. 
Him I will be-lish-lash, and have a fling at his podix.

[Exeunt BOYS.

Enter YOUNG MASTER ARTHUR.

Y. ART.  A pretty wench, a passing pretty wench. 
A sweeter duck all London cannot yield;
She cast a glance on me as I pass’d by,
Not Helen had so ravishing an eye. 
Here is the pedant Sir Aminadab;
I will inquire of him if he can tell
By any circumstance, whose wife she is: 
Such fellows commonly have intercourse
Without suspicion, where we are debarr’d. 
God save you, gentle Sir Aminadab!