[_Sings a Dutch song_.] O mork giff men ein man, Skerry merry vip, O mork giff men ein man Skerry merry vap. O mork giff men ein man, That tik die ten long o drievan can, Skerry merry vip, and skerry merry vap, And skerry merry runke ede bunk, Ede hoore was a hai dedle downe Dedle drunke a: Skeery merry runke ede bunk, ede hoor was drunk a. O daughter yeis ein alto kleene, Skerry merry vip, O daughter yeis ein alto kleene, Skerry merry vap. O daughter yeis ein alto kleene, Ye molten slop, ein yert aleene Skeery merry vip, and skerry merry vap And skerry merry runk ede bunk, Ede hoore was a hey dedle downe Dedle drunke a: Skeery merry, runk ede bunk, ede hoor was drunk a. Sextus. Gramercies, Valerius; came this high-German health as double as his double ruff, I’d pledge it. Brutus. Were it in Lubeck or double-double beer, their own natural liquor, I’d pledge it were it as deep as his ruff: let the health go round about the board, as his band goes round about his neck. I am no more afraid of this Dutch fashion than I should be of the heathenish invention. Collatine. I must entreat you spare me, for my brain brooks not the fumes of wine; their vaporous strength offends me much. Horatius. I would have none spare me, for I’ll spare none. Collatine will pledge no health unless it be to his Lucrece. Sextus. What’s Lucrece but a woman? and what are women But tortures and disturbance unto men? If they be foul they’re odious, and if fair, They’re like rich vessels full of poisonous drugs, Or like black serpents armed with golden scales: For my own part, they shall not trouble me. Brutus. Sextus, sit fast; for I proclaim myself a woman’s champion, and shall unhorse thee else. Valerius. For my own part, I’m a married man, and I’ll speak to my wife to thank thee, Brutus. Aruns. I have a wife too, and I think the most virtuous lady in the world. Scevola. I cannot say but that I have a good wife too, and I love her: but if she were in heaven, beshrew me if I would wish her so much hurt as to desire her company upon earth again; yet, upon my honour, though she be not very fair, she is exceeding honest. Brutus. Nay, the less beauty, the less temptation to despoil her honesty. Scevola. I should be angry with him that should make question of her honour. Brutus. And I angry with thee if thou shouldst not maintain her honour. Aruns. If you compare the virtues of your wives, let me step in for mine. Collatine. I should wrong my Lucrece not to stand for her.