PAGE. 
Hang me, if he hath any more mathematics than will serve to count the
clock, or tell the meridian hour by rumbling of his paunch.
          
                                                  [Aside.

AMORETTO.
Her nose is like ——­

PAGE. 
A cobbler’s shoeing-horn.

AMORETTO.
Her nose is like a beauteous maribone. [Aside.

PAGE. 
Marry, a sweet snotty mistress! [Aside.

AMORETTO. 
Faith, I do not like it yet.  Ass as I was, to read a piece of Aristotle
in Greek yesternight; it hath put me out of my English vein quite.

PAGE. 
O monstrous lie! let me be a point-trusser, while I live, if he
understands any tongue but English. [Aside.

AMORETTO.  Sirrah boy, remember me when I come in Paul’s Churchyard to buy a Ronsard and [a] Dubartas in French, and Aretine in Italian; and our hardest writers in Spanish; they will sharpen my wits gallantly.  I do relish these tongues in some sort.  O, now I do remember, I hear a report of a poet newly come out in Hebrew; it is a pretty harsh tongue, and telleth[97] a gentleman traveller:  but come, let’s haste after my father; the fields are fitter to heavenly meditations.
          
                                              [Exit.

PAGE.  My masters, I could wish your presence at an admirable jest:  why presently this great linguist my master will march through Paul’s Churchyard, come to a bookbinder’s shop, and with a big Italian look and a Spanish face ask for these books in Spanish and Italian; then, turning (through his ignorance) the wrong end of the book upward, use action on this unknown tongue after this sort:  First, look on the title, and wrinkle his brow; next make as though he read the first page, and bite ’s lip;[98] then with his nail score the margent, as though there were some notable conceit; and, lastly, when he thinks he hath gulled the standers-by sufficiently, throws the book away in a rage, swearing that he could never find books of a true print since he was last in Joadna;[99] inquire after the next mart, and so departs.  And so must I; for by this time his contemplation is arrived at his mistress’s nose end; he is as glad as if he had taken Ostend.[100] By this time he begins to spit, and cry, Boy, carry my cloak:  and now I go to attend on his worship.

[Exit.

ACTUS III., SCAENA 4.

Enter INGENIOSO, FUROR, PHANTASMA.

INGENIOSO.  Come, lads; this wine whets your resolution in our design:  it’s a needy world with subtle spirits; and there’s a gentlemanlike kind of begging, that may beseem poets in this age.