Will & Ben: Renaissance Men – a horf?
Ben: My horʃ, my horʃ, my kingdom for a horʃ?
Will: It’s a horse, Ben; ‘a horse, a horse, my kingdom for a horse.’
Ben: Thou art so old fashioned, Will. How will anyone be able to read this rubbish?
Will: I’m not letting you trick me into admitting it is ‘rubbish’, Ben; I think that a lot of people are quietly pleased that I am keeping the old mother tongue alive.
Ben: Quietly indeed, Will – my mother’s tongue and my father’s eyes hath I – in this box, durst thou wan’t to see them, again, Will?
Will: Nay, good Ben, I have neither the eyes nor the stomach to spy upon them a second time – once was once more than enough.
Ben: ‘the sound of one hand clapping frightens no chickens’.
Will: One of yours, Ben?
Ben: A line that I have recently quilled for my ‘Every Man in His Humour’. I quite like it’s understated relevancy, Will.
Will: A palpable hit with the unwashed molasses, Ben, palpable in truth for a distance of feet.
Ben: ‘Two feet makes a distance much further than three.’ I shall use that one day.
Will (aside): Use it ‘and’ abuse it, I am sure. The fool shall speak it well, be that it is in your own voice.