_Lod._ He's poor and beggarly besides all this, And of a nature far uncapable Of any benefit; for his manners cannot Shew him a way to thank a man that does one, He's so uncivil; you may do a part Worthy a Brother, to perswade your Sister From her undoing; if she prove so foolish To marry this cast Captain, look to find her Within a month, where you, or any good man, Would blush to know her; selling cheese and prunes, And retail'd Bottle-Ale; I grieve to think, Because I lov'd her, what a march this Captain Will set her into. _Fred._ You are both, believe me, Two arrant Knaves, and were it not for taking So just an execution from his hands You have bely'd thus, I would swaddle ye, Till I could draw off both your skins like Scabbards. That man that you have wrong'd thus, though to me He be a stranger, yet I know so worthy, However low in fortune, that his worst parts, The very wearing of his Cloaths, would make Two better Gentlemen than you dare be, For there is vertue in his outward things. _Lod._ Belike you love him then? _Fred._ Yes marry do I. _Lod._ And will be angry for him. _Fred._ If you talk, Or pull your face into a stich again, As I love truth I shall be very angry. Do not I know thee, though thou hast some land To set thee out thus among Gentlemen, To be a prating, and vain-glorious Ass? I do not wrong thee now, for I speak truth. Do not I know thou hast been a cudgel'd Coward, That has no cure for shame but Cloath of Silver? And think'st the wearing of a gawdy Suit Hides all disgraces? _Lod._ I understand you not, you hurt not me, Your anger flies so wide. _Piso._ Seignior _Frederick_, You much mistake this Gentleman. _Fred._ No, Sir. _Piso._ If you would please to be less angry, I would tell you how. _Fred._ You had better study, Sir, How to excuse your self if ye be able, Or I shall tell you once again. _Piso._ Not me, Sir; For I protest what I have said, was only To make you understand your Sisters danger. _Lod._ He might, if it pleas'd him, conceive it so. _Fred._ I might, if it pleas'd me, stand still and hear My Sister made a _May_-game, might I not? And give allowance to your liberal jests Upon his Person, whose least anger would Consume a Legion of such wretched people, That have no more to justifie their actions But their tongues ends? that dare lie every way As a Mill grinds? from this hour, I renounce All part of fellowship that may hereafter Make me take knowledg of ye, but for Knaves; And take heed, as ye love whole skins and coxcombs, How, and to whom, ye prate thus; for this time, I care not if I spare ye; do not shake, I will not beat ye, though ye do deserve it Richly.