2467The liverie of the warlike Maide appeares,

2468Pure red, and white, for yet no beard has blest him.

2469And in his rowling eyes, sits victory,

2470As if she ever ment to corect his valour:

2471His Nose stands high, a Character of honour.

2472His red lips, after fights, are fit for Ladies.

2473Emil. Must these men die too?

2474Per. When he speakes, his tongue

2475Sounds like a Trumpet; All his lyneaments

2476Are as a man would wish 'em, strong, and cleane,

2477He weares a well-steeld Axe, the staffe of gold,

2478His age some five and twenty.

2479Mess. Ther's another,

2480A little man, but of a tough soule, seeming

2481As great as any: fairer promises

2482In such a Body, yet I never look'd on.

2483Per. O, he that's freckle fac'd?

2484Mess. The same my Lord,

2485Are they not sweet ones?

2486Per. Yes they are well.

2487Mess. Me thinkes,

2488Being so few, and well disposd, they show

2489Great, and fine art in nature, he's white hair'd,

2490Not wanton white, but such a manly colour

2491Next to an aborne, tough, and nimble set,

2492Which showes an active soule; his armes are brawny

2493Linde with strong sinewes: To the shoulder peece,

2494Gently they swell, like women new conceav'd,

2495Which speakes him prone to labour, never fainting

2496Vnder the waight of Armes; stout harted, still,

2497But when he stirs, a Tiger; he's gray eyd,

2498Which yeelds compassion where he conquers: sharpe

2499To spy advantages, and where he finds 'em,

2500He's swift to make 'em his: He do's no wrongs,

2501Nor takes none; he's round fac'd, and when he smiles

2502He showes a Lover, when he frownes, a Souldier:

2503About his head he weares the winners oke,

2504And in it stucke the favour of his Lady: