He draweth out the thred of his verbositie, fi
ner then the staple of his argument. I abhor such pha
naticall phantasims, such insociable and poynt deuise
companions, such rackers of ortagriphie, as to speake
dout fine, when he should say doubt; det, when he shold
pronounce debt; debt, not det: he clepeth a Calf, Caufe:
halfe, haufe: neighbour
vocatur nebour; neigh abreuiated
ne: this is abhominable, which he would call abhomi
it insinuateth me of infamie:
make franticke, lunaticke?
Laus deo, bene intelligo
Bome boon for boon prescian, a little
Vides ne quis venit?
Video, & gaudio.
Quari Chirra, not Sirra?
Men of peace well incountred.
Most millitarie sir salutation.
They haue beene at a great feast of Languages,
and stolne the scraps.
O they haue liu'd long on the almes‑basket of
words. I maruell thy M. hath not eaten thee for a word,
for thou art not so long by the head as honorificabilitu
dinitatibus: Thou art easier swallowed then a flapdra
Peace, the peale begins.
Mounsier, are you not lettred?
Yes, yes, he teaches boyes the Horne‑booke:
What is Ab speld backward with the horn on his head?
puericia with a horne added.
Ba most seely Sheepe, with a horne: you heare
Quis quis, thou Consonant?
The last of the fiue Vowels if You repeat them,
or the fift if I.
I will repeat them: a e I.
The Sheepe, the other two concludes it o u.
Now by the salt waue of the mediteranium, a
sweet tutch, a quicke vene we of wit, snip snap, quick &
home, it reioyceth my intellect, true wit.
Offered by a childe to an olde man: which is
What is the figure? What is the figure?
Thou disputes like an Infant: goe whip thy
Lend me your Horne to make one, and I will
whip about your
vnum cita a gigge of a
And I had but one penny in the world, thou
shouldst haue it to buy Ginger bread: Hold, there is the
very Remuneration I had of thy Maister, thou halfpenny
purse of wit, thou Pidgeon‑egge of discretion. O & the
heauens were so pleased, that thou wert but my Bastard;
What a ioyfull father wouldst thou make mee? Goe to,
thou hast it
ad dungil, at the fingers ends, as they say.
Oh I smell false Latine,
Arts‑man preambulat, we will bee
the barbarous. Do you not educate youth at the Charg‑
house on the top of the Mountaine?