ASO. Do not I know it, sir? AMO. Nay, good--swell not above your understanding. There is yet a third dor in colours. ASO. I know it too, I know it. AMO. Do you know it too? what is it? make good your knowledge. ASO. Why it is--no matter for that. AMO. Do it, on pain of the dor. ASO. Why; what is't, say you? AMO. Lo, you have given yourself the dor. But I will remonstrate to you the third dor, which is not, as the two former dors, indicative, but deliberative: as how? as thus. Your rival is, with a dutiful and serious care, lying in his bed, meditating how to observe his mistress, dispatcheth his lacquey to the chamber early, to know what her colours are for the day, with purpose to apply his wear that day accordingly: you lay wait before, preoccupy the chamber-maid, corrupt her to return false colours; he follows the fallacy, comes out accoutred to his believed instructions; your mistress smiles, and you give him the dor. ASO. Why, so I told you, sir, I knew it. AMO. Told me! It is a strange outrecuidance, your humour too much redoundeth. ASO. Why, sir, what, do you think you know more? AMO. I know that a cook may as soon and properly be said to smell well, as you to be wise. I know these are most clear and clean strokes. But then, you have your passages and imbrocatas in courtship; as the bitter bob in wit; the reverse in face or wry-mouth; and these more subtile and secure offenders. I will example unto you: Your opponent makes entry as you are engaged with your mistress. You seeing him, close in her ear with this whisper, "Here comes your baboon, disgrace him"; and withal stepping off, fall on his bosom, and turning to her, politely, aloud say, Lady, regard this noble gentleman, a man rarely parted, second to none in this court; and then, stooping over his shoulder, your hand on his breast, your mouth on his backside, you give him the reverse stroke, with this sanna, or stork's-bill, which makes up your wit's bob most bitter. ASO. Nay, for heaven's sake, teach me no more. I know all as well --'Slid, if I did not, why was I nominated? why did you choose me? why did the ladies prick out me? I am sure there were other gallants. But me of all the rest! By that light, and, as I am a courtier, would I might never stir, but 'tis strange. Would to the lord the ladies would come once! ENTER MORPHIDES. MORP. Signior, the gallants and ladies are at hand. Are you ready, sir? AMO. Instantly. Go, accomplish your attire: [EXIT ASOTUS.] Cousin Morphides, assist me to make good the door with your officious tyranny. CITIZEN. [WITHIN.] By your leave, my masters there, pray you let's come by. PAGES. [WITHIN.] You by! why should you come by more than we? CITIZEN'S WIFE. [WITHIN.] Why, sir! because he is my brother that plays the prizes.