CAPT. FACE. My patience yet is great: Do you bandy tropes? by Dis, I will be knight, Wear a blue coat on great Saint George's day,[417] And with my fellows drive you all from Paul's For this attempt. BOUT. Will you yet get up? I must lash you to it. CAPT. FACE. By Pluto, gentlemen, To do you pleasure, and to make you sport, I'll do't. W. SMALL. Come, get up then quick. BOUT. I'll dress you, sir. CAPT. FACE. By Jove, 'tis not for fear, But for a love I bear unto these tricks, That I perform it. BOUT. Hold up your snout, sir: Sit handsomely; by heaven, sir, you must do it. Come, boy. W. SMALL. No, by this good light, I'll play Him that goes with the motions. DRAWER. Where's the captain, gentlemen? W. SMALL. Stand back, boy, and be a spectator. Gentlemen, You shall see the strange nature of an outlandish beast, That has but two legs, bearded like a man, Nosed like a goose, and tongued like a woman, Lately brought from the land of Cataia.[418] A beast of much understanding, were it not given Too much to the love of venery. Do I not do it well? BOUT. Admirably! W. SMALL. Remember, noble captain, You skip, when I shall shake my whip. Now, sir, What can you do for the great Turk? What can you do for the Pope of Rome? Hark! he stirreth not, he moveth not, he waggeth not; What can you do for the town of Geneva, sirrah? [_He holds up his hands instead of praying._ CON. Sure, this baboon is a great Puritan, BOUT. Is not this strange? W. SMALL. Not a whit; by this light Banks[419] his horse and he were taught both in a stable. DRAWER. O, rare! CAPT. FACE. Zounds! I'll first be damn'd: shall [my] sport Be laugh'd at? by Dis, by Pluto, and great Proserpine, My fatal blade, once drawn, falls but with death: Yet if you'll let me go, I vow, by Jove, No widow, maid, wife, punk, or cockatrice, Shall make me haunt your ghosts. BOUT. 'Twill not serve, sir, You must show more. CAPT. FACE. I'll first be hang'd and damn'd.[420] W. SMALL. Foot, can he jump so well? BOUT. Is he so quick? I hope the slave will haunt no more the widow. W. SMALL. As for that take no care, for by this light She'll not have thee. BOUT. Not have me? W. SMALL. No, not have thee. By this hand, flesh, and blood, she is resolv'd To make my father a most fearful cuckold, And he's resolv'd to save his soul by her. BOUT. How, by her?