Yet these are weaker vessels, heaven doth knowe;
Lay on them ought but ease, you doe them wrong;
They are as weake as water and indeede as strong,
And then, like mightie ships when pellets sincke,
To them lay more men, sheele never shrinke.
[_Enter[227] Getica and Boss, with a dog_.]
_Boss_. Mistris, that face wants a fresh Glosse.
_Gent_. Prethee, dib it in well, _Bos_.
_Acut_. _Pigmaleon, Pigmaleon_, I coniure thee appeare; to worke, to
worke, make more Marble Ingles. Nature thou art a foole, Art is above
thee; _Belzebub_, paint thy face there's some will love thee.
_Boss_. Rare, Mistris, heeres a cheeke like a Camelion or a blasing
Star, you shall heere me blaze it; heere's two saucers sanguine in a
sable field pomegranet, a pure pendat ready to drop out of the stable, a
pin and web argent in hayre de Roy.
_Grac_. And a fooles head in the Crest.
_Bos_. In the Crest? oh sweete Vermilion mistris, tis pittie the
Vermilion Wormes shoulde eate thee, ile set it with pretious stones and
ye will.
_Gent_. Enough, sweete _Bosse_, throwe a little water to spurt's face
and lets away.
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