_Sep._ The powdering of this head too--

_Sce._ If thou hast it,
I'le tell thee all the Gumms in sweet _Arabia_
Are not sufficient, were they burnt about thee,
To purge the scent of a rank Rascal from thee.

_Ant._ I smell him now: fie, how the Knave perfumes him,
How strong he scents of Traitor!

_Dol._ You had an ill Millener,
He laid too much of the Gum of Ingratitude
Upon your Coat, you should have washt off that Sir,
Fie, how it choaks! too little of your loyaltie,
Your honesty, your faith, that are pure Ambers;
I smell the rotten smell of a hired Coward,
A dead Dog is sweeter.

_Sep._ Ye are merry Gentlemen,
And by my troth, such harmless mirth takes me too,
You speak like good blunt Souldiers; and 'tis well enough:
But did you live at Court, as I do, Gallants,
You would refine, and learn an apter language;
I have done ye simple service on your _Pompey_,
You might have lookt him yet this brace of twelve months
And hunted after him, like foundred Beagles,
Had not this fortunate hand--

_Ant._ He brags on't too:
By the good Gods, rejoyces in't; thou wretch