_Lap._ With all the speed I may, first then, and foremost, I hold so reverently of the _Bastinado_, Sir, That if it were the dearest friend i'th' world, I'de put it into his hand. _Sham._ Go too, I'll pass that then. _Lap._ Y'are the more happy, Sir, Would I were past it too: But being accustom'd to't. It is the better carried. _Sham._ Will you forward? _Lap._ Then there's your _souce_, your _wherit_ and your _dowst_, _Tugs_ on the hair, your _bob_ o'th' lips, a whelp on't, I ne'er could find much difference: Now your _thump_, A thing deriv'd first from your Hemp-beaters, Takes a mans wind away, most spitefully: There's nothing that destroys a Collick like it, For't leaves no wind i'th' body. _Sham._ On Sir, on. _Lap._ Pray give me leave, I'm out of breath with thinking on't. _Sham._ This is far off yet. _Lap._ For the _twinge_ by th' nose, 'Tis certainly unsightly, so my [Table] says, But helps against the head-ach, wond'rous strangely. _Sham._ Is't possible? _Lap._ Oh your _crush'd nostrils_ slakes your _opilation_, And makes your pent powers flush to wholsome sneezes. _Sham._ I never thought there had been half that virtue In a wrung nose before. _Lap._ Oh plenitude, Sir: Now come we lower to our _modern Kick_, Which has been mightily in use of late, Since our young men drank _Coltsfoot_: and I grant you, 'Tis a most scornful wrong, cause the foot plays it; But mark agen, how we that take't, requite it With the like scorn, for we receive it backward; And can there be a worse disgrace retorted? _Sham._ And is this all? _Lap._ All but a _Lug by th' ear_, Or such a trifle. _Sham._ Happy sufferer, All this is nothing to the wrong I bear: I see the worst disgrace, thou never felt'st yet; It is so far from thee tho[u] canst not think on't; Nor dare I let thee know, it is so abject. _Lap._ I would you would though, that I might prepare for't For I shall ha't at one time or another: If't be a _thwack_, I make account of that; There's no new fashion'd swap that e'er came up yet, But I've the first on 'em, I thank 'em for't. _Enter the Lady and Servants._ _La._ Hast thou enquir'd? _1 Serv._ But can hear nothing, Madam. _Sham._ If there be but so much substance in thee To make a shelter for a man disgrac'd, Hide my departure from that glorious woman That comes with all perfection about her: So noble, that I dare not be seen of her, Since shame took hold of me: upon thy life No mention of me. _Lap._ I'll cut out my tongue first, Before I'll loose my life, there's more belongs to't. _Lad._ See there's a Gentleman, enquire of him. _2 Ser._ For Monsieur _Shamont_, Madam? _Lad._ For whom else, Sir? _1 Serv._ Why, this fellow dares not see him. _Lad._ How?