_Nou._ Nay, a my soule, ’tis so, what fouler obiect in the world, then to see a young faire, handsome beauty, vnhandsomely dighted and incongruently accoutred; or a hopefull 50 _Cheualier_, vnmethodically appointed, in the externall ornaments of nature? For euen as the Index tels vs the contents of stories, and directs to the particular Chapters, euen so does the outward habit and superficiall order of garments (in man or woman) giue vs a tast of the spirit, and 55 demonstratiuely poynt (as it were a manuall note from the margin) all the internall quality, and habiliment of the soule, and there cannot be a more euident, palpable, grosse manifestation of poore degenerate dunghilly blood, and breeding, then rude, vnpolish’d, disordered and slouenly outside. 60 _Page._ An admirable! lecture. Oh all you gallants, that hope to be saued by your cloathes, edify, edify. _Aym._ By the Lard, sweet Lard, thou deseru’st a pension o’ the State. _Page._ O th’ Taylors, two such Lords were able to spread 65 Taylors ore the face of a whole kingdome. _Nou._ Pox a this glasse! it flatters, I could find in my heart to breake it. _Page._ O saue the glasse my Lord, and breake their heads, they are the greater flatterers I assure you. 70 _Aym._ Flatters, detracts, impayres, yet put it by, Lest thou deare Lord (_Narcissus_-like) should doate Vpon thyselfe, and dye; and rob the world Of natures copy, that she workes forme by. _Lila._ Oh that I were the Infanta Queene of Europe, 75 Who (but thy selfe sweete Lord) shouldst marry me. _Nou._ I marry? were there a Queene oth’ world, not I. Wedlocke? no padlocke, horselocke, I weare spurrs _He capers._ To keepe it off my heeles; yet my _Aymour_, Like a free wanton iennet i’th meddows, 80 I looke aboute, and neigh, take hedge and ditch, Feede in my neighbours pastures, picke my choyce Of all their faire-maind-mares: but married once, A man is stak’d, or pown’d, and cannot graze Beyond his owne hedge. _Enter Pontalier, and Malotin._ _Pont._ I haue waited, sir, 85 Three hours to speake w’ee, and not take it well, Such magpies are admitted, whilst I daunce Attendance. _Lila._ Magpies? what d’ee take me for? _Pont._ A long thing with a most vnpromising face. _Aym._ I’ll ne’re aske him what he takes me for? _Mal._ Doe not, sir, 90 For hee’l goe neere to tell you. _Pont._ Art not thou A Barber Surgeon? _Barb._ Yes sira why. _Pont._ My Lord is sorely troubled with two scabs. _Lila._ _Aym._ Humph-- _Pont._ I prethee cure him of ’em.