brawl? How meanest thou? brawling in French? No, my complete master: but to jig off a tune at the tongue's end, canary to it with your feet, humour it with turning up your eyelids, sigh a note and sing a note, sometime through the throat, as if you swallowed love with singing love, sometime through the nose, as if you snuffed up love by smelling love; with your hat penthouse-like o'er the shop of your eyes; with your arms crossed on your thin-belly doublet like a rabbit on a spit; or your hands in your pocket like a man after the old painting; and keep not too long in one tune, but a snip and away. These are complements, these are humours; these betray nice wenches, that would be betrayed without these; and make them men of note--do you note me?--that most are affected to these. How hast thou purchased this experience? By my penny of observation. But O,--but O,-- 'The hobby-horse is forgot.' Callest thou my love 'hobby-horse'? No, master; the hobby-horse is but a colt, and your love perhaps a hackney. But have you forgot your love? Almost I had. Negligent student! learn her by heart. By heart and in heart, boy. And out of heart, master: all those three I will prove. What wilt thou prove? A man, if I live; and this, by, in, and without, upon the instant: by heart you love her, because your heart cannot come by her; in heart you love her, because your heart is in love with her; and out of heart you love her, being out of heart that you cannot enjoy her. I am all these three. And three times as much more, and yet nothing at all. Fetch hither the swain: he must carry me a letter. A message well sympathized; a horse to be ambassador for an ass. Ha, ha! what sayest thou? Marry, sir, you must send the ass upon the horse, for he is very slow-gaited. But I go. The way is but short: away! As swift as lead, sir. The meaning, pretty ingenious? Is not lead a metal heavy, dull, and slow? Minime, honest master; or rather, master, no. I say lead is slow. You are too swift, sir, to say so: Is that lead slow which is fired from a gun? Sweet smoke of rhetoric! He reputes me a cannon; and the bullet, that's he: I shoot thee at the swain. Thump then and I flee. A most acute juvenal;