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
nable:
it insinuateth me of infamie:
ne inteligis
domine
, to
make franticke, lunaticke?
Laus deo, bene intelligo
Bome boon for boon prescian, a little
scratcht, 'twil
serue.
Vides ne quis venit?
Video, & gaudio.
Chirra.
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
gon.
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?
Ba,
puericia with a horne added.
Ba most seely Sheepe, with a horne: you heare
his learning.
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
wit‑old.
What is the figure? What is the figure?
Hornes.
Thou disputes like an Infant: goe whip thy
Gigge.
Lend me your Horne to make one, and I will
whip about your
Infamie
vnum cita a gigge of a
Cuck
olds horne.
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,
dunghel for
vnguem.
Arts‑man preambulat, we will bee
singled from
the barbarous. Do you not educate youth at the Charg‑
house on the top of the Mountaine?
Monsthe hill.