Scene I.St. Marks Place; a retired corner before Corvinos House.
Enter Sir Politick Would-be, and Peregrine.
Sir P. Sir, to a wise man, all the worlds his soil:
Sir P. I dare the safelier converseHow long, sir,
Per. Seven weeks.
Sir P. So lately!
Per. Not yet, sir.
Sir P. Pray you, what news, sir, vents our climate?
Per. What wast, sir?
Sir P. Marry, sir, of a raven that should build
Per. This fellow,
Sir P. My name is Politick Would-be.
Per. O, that speaks him.[Aside.]
Sir P. A poor knight, sir.
Per. Your lady
Sir P. Yes, sir; the spider and the bee, ofttimes,
Per. Good sir Politick,
Sir P. On your knowledge?
Per. Yes, and your lions whelping in the Tower.
Sir P. Another whelp!
Per. Another, sir.
Sir P. Now heaven!
Per. I did, sir.
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