MOTTO

Dello, thou knowest Midas touched his beard, and it gold. That the Pages cosend me of it. That I must be revenged. Thou knowest I have taught thee the knack king of the hands, the tickling on a men hairs, Like the tuning of a Cittern. Beside, I instructed thee in the phrases of our eloquent occupation, as how sir will you be trimmed? will you have your beard Like a spade, or a bodkin? a penthouse on your upper lip, or and ally on your chin? allow curl on your head Like a Bull, or dangling lock Like a spaniel? your moustaches sharp at the ends, Like shoemakers aules, or hanging down to your mouth Like Goats flakes? your lovelocks wreathed with a silken twist, or shaggy to fall on your shoulders? Well for all this I desire no more at thy hands, than to keep secret the revenge I have prepared for the Pages. Indeed thou shouldst be no blab, because a bar ber, therefore be secret. Was it not a good cure Dello, to ease the toothache, and never touch the tooth? I did but rub his gums, and presently the rheum evaporated. It may be that it is only the breeding of a beard, and being the first beard, you shall have a hard travel. As likely sir, for any thing I know, as on your chin. May I but touch them Dello, I'll teach his tonge to tell a tale, what villainy it is to cousin one of a beard, but stand not thou nigh, for it is ods when he spits, but that all his teeth fly in thy face. I, so did you overhear me, when you cose ned me of a beard: but I forget all. How now Petulus, do they still ache? Let me rub your gums with this leaf. Nothing in the world, but to let me lay a gol den beard to your chin. You are Like to fetch it out with your teeth, or go without your teeth. Guilded, nay boy, all my beard was gold. It was not gilded, I will not be so overmatched. I am content, but I will have the beard in my hand to be sure. Agreed. I am as melancholy as a cat. What a world it is to see eggs forwarder than cocks? these infants are as cunning in diseases, as I that have run them over all, backward and forward. I tell you boys, it is melancholy that now troubles me. What meanest thou Dello? Because all the Court is sad. Because the King hath a pain in his ears. It may be, for his ears are swollen very big. 'Tis a lie; and yet if I had, he might well spare and inch or two. Let me alone. As as between and asses ears and mine. Nay, I mean the Kings are asses ears. Perii, unless you pity me, Motto is in a pit. Your servants, or handmaidens. Out villain, thou wringst too hard. Thou seest boy we are both mortal. I enjoy mine ears, but durante placito; nor thou thy finger, but favente dento. Alas, he that hath drawn so many teeth, and never asked Latin for a tooth, is ill brought up. I protest by cizars, brush and comb, basin, ball and apron, by razor, eare-pike and rubbing cloa these, and all the tria sequuntur triaes in our secret occu pation (for you know it is no blabbing art) that you shall have the beard, in manner and form following. Not only the golden beard and every hair, (though it be not hair) but a dozen of beards, to stuff two do zen of cushions. Then follow.