The Poetaster by Ben Jonson
page 58 of 324 (17%)
page 58 of 324 (17%)
![]() | ![]() |
|
Cris. [coming forward.] Yes, in truth, forsooth, for fault of a better. Chloe. She is a gentlewoman. Cris. Or else she should not be my cousin, I assure you. Chloe. Are you a gentleman born? Cris. That I am, lady; you shall see mine arms, if it please you. Chloe. No, your legs do sufficiently shew you are a gentleman born, sir; for a man borne upon little legs, is always a gentleman born. Cris. Yet, I pray you, vouchsafe the sight of my arms, mistress; for I bear them about me, to have them seen: My name is Crispinus or Crispinas indeed; which is well expressed in my arms; a face crying in chief; and beneath it a bloody toe, between three thorns pungent. Chloe. Then you are welcome, sir: now you are a gentleman born, I can find in my heart to welcome you; for I am a gentlewoman born too, and will bear my head high enough, though 'twere my fortune to marry a tradesman. Cris. No doubt of that, sweet feature; your carriage shews it in any man's eye, that is carried upon you with judgment. [Re-enter ALBIUS. Alb. Dear wife, be not angry. |
|