as no Phillis.

_Brain._ Yet again!--_My Phillis--_ [_Sings._

_Limb._ Pray, for my sake, let it be your Chloris.

_Brain._ [_Looking scornfully at him._] _My Phillis--_ [_Sings._

_Limb._ You had as good call her your Succuba.

_Brain._ _Morbleu!_ will you not give me leave? I am full of Phillis.
[_Sings._] _My Phillis--_

_Limb._ Nay, I confess, Phillis is a very pretty name.

_Brain._ _Diable!_ Now I will not sing, to spite you. By the world,
you are not worthy of it. Well, I have a gentleman's fortune; I have
courage, and make no inconsiderable figure in the world: yet I would
quit my pretensions to all these, rather than not be author of this
sonnet, which your rudeness has irrevocably lost.

_Limb._ Some foolish French _quelque chose_, I warrant you.

_Brain._ _Quelque chose!_ O ignorance, in supreme perfection! he means
a _kek shose_[9].

_Limb._ Why a _kek shoes_ let it be then! and a _kek shoes_ for your
song.

_Brain._ I give to the devil such a judge. Well, were I to be born