_De_. It will become your wisdome and your safety. _Cou_.

What mischiefe have done to your face? _De_. My face? _Cou_. You looke so scurvily; come hither, thou New Monster, with more feet then a Caterpiller; What tyme a day ist? you that move upon So many wheeles, say, Monsier, are you not A walkeing Clock? I have a mighty mind To see you tooke a peeces.

_De_. I doe not like this.- You wo'not put me, sir, together againe.

_Cou_. I wo'not take the paines. Why do you smile now? _De_.

At your conceite to thinke I was a Clock: I am a watch, I never strike.-Hee's valiant. _Cou_.

You have pretty colours there; are these your Mistresses? _De_. If you did know the mistery you would applaud 'em. Have you read _Livre_de_blason_? What meane you? _Cou_.

I will bestow 'em, sir, upon some forehorse? They will become a countrey teame rarely. _De_. Mor bleu! Why, you dare fight, it seemes, and I was told You were no Cavellier, a very dreame [droane?] A wedg for men to breake their swords upon.