_Witty._ By my faith Sir, he speaks the nearest fame of truth in this.

_Ruin._ Since Sir, I serv'd in _France_, the _Low Countreys_, Lastly, at that memorable skirmish at _Newport_, where the forward and bold _Scot_ there spent his life so freely, that from every single heart that there fell, came home from his resolution, a double honor to his Countrey.

Beaumont and Fletcher's Works (9 of 10) — Part 48

_Witty._ This should be no counterfeit, Sir.

Beaumont and Fletcher's Works (9 of 10) — Part 48

_Witty._ But Sir, me thinks you do not shew the marks of a Soldier, could you so freely scape, that you brought home no scarrs to be your chronicle?

Beaumont and Fletcher's Works (9 of 10) — Part 48

_Ruin._ Sir, I have wounds, and many, but in those parts where nature and humanity bids me shame to publish.

_Witty._ A good Soldier cannot want those badges.

_Sir Greg._ Now am not I of your mind in that, for I hold him the best soldier that scapes best, alwaies at a Cock-fencing I give him the best that has the fewest knocks.

_Witty._ Nay, I'll have a bout with your Scholar too, To ask you why you should be poor (yet richly learn'd) Were no question, at least, you can easily Answer it; but whether you have learning enough, To deserve to be poor or no (since poverty is Commonly the meed of Learning) is yet to be tryed; You have the Languages, I mean the chief, As the _Hebrew_, _Syriack_, _Greek_, _Latine_, &c.

_Pris. Aliquantulum, non totaliter, Domine._

_Old K._ The _Latine_ I have sufficiently tried him in, And I promise you Sir, he is very well grounded.

_Witty._ I will prove him in some of the rest. _Toi[s] miois fatherois iste Cock-scomboy?_

_Pris. Kay yonkeron nigitton oy fouleroi Asinisoy._

_Pris. Tous pollous strikerous, Angelo to peeso._

_Witty._ Certainly Sir, a very excellent Scholar in the _Greek_.

_Old K._ I do note a wondrous readiness in him.

_Sir Greg._ I do wonder how the _Trojans_ could hold out ten years siege (as 'tis reported) against the _Greeks_, if _Achilles_ spoke but this tongue? I do not think but he might have shaken down the Walls in a seven-night, and ne'er troubled the wooden horse.

_Witty._ I will try him so far as I can in the _Syriack_. _Kircom bragmen, shag a dou ma dell mathou._

_Pris. Hashagath rabgabosh shobos onoriadka._

_Witty. Colpack Rubasca, gnawerthem shig shag._

[_Pris._] _Napshamothem Ribs[h]e bongomosh lashemech nagothi._