_Hor._ Who, the balde Knight Sir Vaughan? _Sir Vau._ The same M. Horace, he that has but a remnant or parcell of haire, his crowne is clipt and par’d away; me thinkes tis an excellent quallitie to bee balde; for and there stucke a |1445| nose and two nyes in his pate, he might weare two faces vnder one hood. _Asi._ As God saue me la, if I might ha my will, Ide rather be a balde Gentleman then a hairy; for I am sure the best and tallest Yeomen in England haue balde heads: me thinkes haire is a |1450| scuruie lowsie commodity. _Hor._ Bubo, heerein you blaze your ignorance. _Sir Vau._ Pray stop and fill your mouthes, and giue M. Horace all your eares. _Hor._ _For, if of all the bodies parts, the head |1455| Be the most royall: if discourse, wit, Iudgement, And all our vnderstanding faculties, Sit there in their high Court of Parliament, Enacting lawes to sway this humorous world: This little Ile of Man: needes must that crowne, |1460| Which stands vpon this supreame head, be faire, And helde inualuable, and that crowne’s the_ Haire: _The head that wants this honour stands awry, Is bare in name and in authority_. _Sir Vau._ He meanes balde-pates Mistris Miniuers. |1465| _Hor._ Haire, _tis the roabe which curious nature weaues, To hang vpon the head: and does adorne, Our bodies in the first houre we are borne: God does bestow that garment: when we dye, That (like a soft and silken Canopie) |1470| Is still spred ouer vs; In spight of death Our hayre growes in our graue, and that alone Lookes fresh, when all our other beauty’s gone. The excellence of_ Haire, _in this shines cleere, That the foure Elements take pride to weare |1475| The fashion of it: when_ Fire _most bright does burne, The flames to golden lockes doe striue to turne; When her lasciuious armes the_ Water _hurles, About the shoares wast, her sleeke head she curles: And rorid cloudes being suckt into the_ Ayre, |1480| _When downe they melt, hangs like fine siluer hayre. You see the_ Earth _(whose head so oft is shorne) Frighted to feele her lockes so rudely torne, Stands with her haire an end, and (thus afraide) Turnes euery haire to a greene naked blade. |1485| Besides, when (strucke with griefe) we long to dye, We spoile that most, which most does beautifie, We rend this_ Head-tyre _off. I thus conclude, Cullors set cullors out; our eyes iudge right, Of vice or vertue by their opposite: |1490| So, if faire haire to beauty ad such grace, Baldnes must needes be vgly, vile and base._ _Sir Vau._ True M. Horace, for a bald reason, is a reason that has no haires vpon’t, a scuruy scalded reason. _Mi._ By my truely I neuer thought you could ha pickt such |1495| strange things out of haire before. _Asini._ Nay my Ningle can tickle it, when hee comes too’t. _Min._ Troth I shall neuer bee enameld of a bare-headed man for this, what shift so euer I make.