_Y. Book._ But my sword, does it hang careless? Do I look bold, negligent, and erect? that is, do I look as if I could kill a man without being out of humour? I horridly mistrust myself. Am I military enough in my air? I fancy people see I understand Greek. Don't I pore a little in my visage? Han't I a down bookish lour, a wise sadness? I don't look gay enough and unthinking, I fancy. _Lat._ I protest you wrong yourself. You look very brisk and very ignorant. _Y. Book._ O fie! I am afraid you flatter me. _Lat._ I don't indeed; I'll be hanged if my tutor would know either of us. But, good master, to what use do you design to put the noble arts and sciences he taught us? The conduct of our lives, the government of our passions, were his daily talk to us, good man! _Y. Book._ Good man! Why I'll obey his precepts, but abridge 'em. For as he used to advise me, I'll contract my thoughts, as I'll tell you, Jack:--for the passions, I'll turn 'em all into that one dear passion, love; and when that's the only torture of my heart, I'll give that tortured heart quite away; deny there's any such thing as pain, and turn stoic a shorter way than e'er thy tutor taught thee. This is the new philosophy, you rogue you. _Lat._ But you would not in earnest be thought wholly illiterate? _Y. Book._ No; for as when I walk, I'd have you know by my motion I can dance; so when I speak, I'd have you see I read: yet would ordinarily neither cut capers nor talk sentences. But you prate as if I came to town to get an employment. No; hang business, hang care; let it live and prosper among the men; I'll ne'er go near the solemn ugly things again. I'll keep company with none but ladies--bright ladies. O London! London! O woman! woman! I am come where thou livest, where thou shinest. _Lat._ Hey day! why, were there no women in Oxford? _Y. Book._ No, no; why, do you think a bed-maker's a woman? _Lat._ Yes, and thought you knew it. _Y. Book._ No, no, 'tis no such thing. As he that is not honest or brave is no man; so she that is not witty or fair is no woman. No, no, Jack, to come up to that high name and object of desire, she must be gay and chaste, she must at once attract, and banish you. I don't know how to express myself, but a woman, methinks, is a being between us and angels. She has something in her that at the same time gives awe and invitation; and I swear to you I was never out in't yet, but I always judged of men as I observed they judged of women. There's nothing shows a man so much as the object of his affections.--But what do you stare at so considerately? _Lat._ Faith, sir, I am wondering at you--how 'tis possible you could be so jaunty a town-spark in a moment, and have so easy a behaviour. I look, methinks, to you, as if I were really your footman.