tragically and high?

Lusc. No, but I have boots on, sir, and so has your father too by
this time; for he call'd for them ere I came from the lodging.

Ovid. Why, was he no readier?

Lusc. O no; and there was the mad skeldering captain, with the
velvet arms, ready to lay hold on him as he comes down: he that
presses every man he meets, with an oath to lend him money, and
cries, Thou must do't, old boy, as thou art a man, a man of
worship.

Ovid. Who, Pantilius Tucca?

Lus. Ay, he; and I met little master Lupus, the tribune, going
thither too.

Ovid. Nay, an he be under their arrest, I may with safety enough
read over my elegy before he come.

Lus. Gods a'me! what will you do? why, young master, you are not
Castalian mad, lunatic, frantic, desperate, ha!

Ovid. What ailest thou, Luscus?

Lus. God be with you, sir; I'll leave you to your poetical fancies,
and furies. I'll not be guilty, I. [Exit.

Ovid.