Brag. Fetch hither the Swaine, he must carrie mee a
letter

Boy. A message well simpathis'd, a Horse to be embassadour
for an Asse

Brag. Ha, ha, What saiest thou?
Boy. Marrie sir, you must send the Asse vpon the Horse
for he is verie slow gated: but I goe

Brag. The way is but short, away

Boy. As swift as Lead sir

Brag. Thy meaning prettie ingenious, is not Lead a
mettall heauie, dull, and slow?
Boy. Minnime honest Master, or rather Master no

Brag. I say Lead is slow

Boy. You are too swift sir to say so.
Is that Lead slow which is fir'd from a Gunne?
Brag. Sweete smoke of Rhetorike,
He reputes me a Cannon, and the Bullet that's he:
I shoote thee at the Swaine

Boy. Thump then, and I flee

Bra. A most acute Iuuenall, voluble and free of grace,
By thy fauour sweet Welkin, I must sigh in thy face.