+Blood.+ Nay, nay, now his great oath's pass'd, there's no talk on't. I like him ne'er the worse; there's an old saw for't-- _A kiss first, next the feeling sense, Crack say the purse-strings, out fly the pence._ But he can talk, though: whose boy are you, Tim? +Tim.+ Your boy, forsooth, father. +Blood.+ Can you turn and wind a penny, Tim? +Tim.+ Better than yourself, forsooth, father. +Blood.+ You have looked in the church-book of late; how old are you, Tim? +Tim.+ Two and twenty years, three months, three days, and three quarters of an hour, forsooth, father. +Wid.+ He has arithmetic. +Blood.+ And grammar too: what's Latin for your head, Tim? +Tim.+ _Caput._ +Wid.+ But what for the head of a block? +Tim.+ _Caput_ blockhead. +Blood.+ Do you hear; your ear? +Tim.+ _Aura._ +Blood.+ Your eye? +Tim.+ _Oculus._ +Blood.+ That's for one eye; what's Latin for two? +Tim.+ _Oculus-Oculus._[11] +Widow.+ An admirable accidental grammarian, I protest, sir. +Blood.+ This boy shall have all: I have an elder rogue that sucks and draws me; a tavern academian; one that protests to whores, and shares with highway lawyers; an arrant unclarified rogue, that drinks nothing but wicked sack. _Enter +Sim+ and +Alexander+ drunk._ +Sim.+ Here's a gentleman would speak with you. +Blood.+ Look, look; now he's come for more money. +Wid.+ A very hopeful house to match into, wench; the father a knave, one son a drunkard, and t'other a fool. [_Aside._ +Tim.+ O monster, father! Look if he be not drunk; the very sight of him makes me long for a cup of six.[12] +Alex.+ Pray, father, pray to God to bless me. [_To +Tim+._ +Blood.+ Look, look! takes his brother for his father! +Sim.+ Alas, sir! when the drink's in, the wit's out? and none but wise children know their own fathers. +Tim.+ Why, I am none of your father, brother; I am Tim; do you know Tim? +Alex.+ Yes, umph--for a coxcomb. +Wid.+ How wild he looks! Good sir, we'll take our leaves. +Blood.+ Shalt not go, faith, widow: you cheater, rogue; must I have my friends frighted out of my house by you? Look he[13] steal nothing to feast his bawds. Get you out, sirrah! there are constables, beadles, whips, and the college of extravagants, yclept Bridewell, you rogue; you rogue, there is, there is, mark that. +Alex.+ Can you lend me a mark upon this ring, sir? and there set it down in your book, and, umph--mark that. +Blood.+ I'll have no stolen rings picked out of pockets, or taken upon the way,[14] not I. +Alex.+ I'll give you an old saw for't. +Blood.+ There's a rogue mocks his father: sirrah, get you gone. Sim, go let loose the mastiff. +Sim.+ Alas, sir! he'll tear and pull out your son's throat.