JUL. For what end? Have you stol'n from your colours? O, I hate A coward worser than a maidenhead Basely bestow'd. These Paphlagonian birds-- These heartless partridges--shall never nestle Under my feathers. Till your spirit revive, And look like man, disclaim your interest And injur'd title in Julippe. PAL. So; He must first learn to fight, ere she to love. [_Aside._ JOC. What would Sir Gregory? SIR GRE. That you would love me. JOC. No; you must cast your slough first: can you see Ought in yourself worth loving? Have you ever, Since our unhappy meeting, us'd a glass, And not been startled in the sad perusal Of your affrightful physnomy? Sir, hear me; And let me beg your patience, if you hear Aught may disrelish you. When th' camel shall Trans-shape himself into a nimble weasel, Or such-like active creature, and this bunch, Which Nemesis has on your shoulders pitch'd (This bunch of grapes, I mean) shall levell'd be, [_She lays her hand upon his shoulders._ And brought into proportion by a press Equally squeezing, till it shall retain Adonis' feature, I shall value you, And hug you for my consort. But till then Excuse my strangeness. SAL. So; his cause is heard: He must unshape himself to gain her love. MED. Sir Tristram Shorttool, have you ought to do In this pursuit of fancy? SIR TRIS. Something, madam. MED. But to small[134] purpose. Sir Tristram, you have been A man of reading, and on winter nights You told me tales (for that was all[135] you did), What strange adventures and what gallant acts Redoubted knights did for their ladies' sakes; But what did you for Medler all the while? Did you e'er toss a pike or brandish blade For her dear sake? Go to, I shall conceal, And with a modest, bashful veil enshroud What sense bids me discover. Let me, sir, Advise you as a friend; for other styles, Relating to an husband, I shall never Henceforth resent them with a free comply: Love suits not well with your decrepit age; Let it be your chief care t' intend your health; Use caudles, cordials, julips, pectorals; Keep your feet warm; bind up your nape o' th' neck Close against chilling airs, that you may live An old man long; but take especial care You button on your nightcap. MOR. After th' new fashion With his loave-ears[136] without it. [_Aside._ MED. This is all-- Only your absence. MOR. So good night, Sir Tristram. [_Aside._ SIR REU. Sweet Madam Tinder. [SIR REUBEN _offers to kiss her_. TIN. Keep your distance, sir; I love not to be touch'd. SIR REU. Are you so hot, My tender tinder? TIN. No, sir; look to the clime Where you inhabit; there's the torrid zone. TIL. Yea, there goes the hare[137] away! [_Aside._ SIR REU. Can you not love? TIN. Not one that loves so many. SIR REU. 'Las, pretty peat! [_Offers to touch her._ TIN. Pray, sir, hold off your hand; Truck with your low-pric'd traders; I must tell you Mine honour's higher rated.