own most naturally, mistress?

PUNT. O, she cannot but affirm that, out of the bounty of her judgment.

SAV. Nay, out of doubt he does well, for a gentleman to imitate: but I
warrant you, he becomes his natural carriage of the gentleman, much better
than his clownery.

FAST. 'Tis strange, in truth, her ladyship should see so far into him!

PUNT. Ay, is it not?

SAV. Faith, as easily as may be; not decipher him, quoth you!

FUNG. Good sadness, I wonder at it

MACI. Why, has she deciphered him, gentlemen?

PUNT. O, most miraculously, and beyond admiration.

MACI. Is it possible?

FAST. She hath gather'd most infallible signs of the gentleman in him,
that's certain.

SAV. Why, gallants, let me laugh at you a little: was this your device,
to try my judgment in a gentleman?

MACI. Nay, lady, do not scorn us, though you have this gift of perspicacy
above others. What if he should be no gentleman now, but a clown indeed,
lady?

PUNT. How think you of that? would not your ladyship be Out of your Humour?

FAST. O, but she knows it is not so.

SAV. What if he were not a man, ye may as well say? Nay, if your worships
could gull me so, indeed, you were wiser than you are taken for.

MACI. In good faith, lady, he is a very perfect clown, both by father and
mother; that I'll assure you.

SAV. O, sir, you are very pleasurable.

MACI. Nay, do but look on his hand, and that shall resolve you; look you,
lady, what a palm here is.

SOG. Tut, that was with holding the plough.

MACI. The plough! did you discern any such thing in him, madam?

FAST. Faith no, she saw the gentleman as bright as noon-day, she; she
deciphered him at first.

MACI. Troth, I am sorry your ladyship's sight should be so suddenly struck.

SAV. O, you are goodly beagles!

FAST. What, is she gone?

SOG. Nay, stay, sweet lady: 'que novelles? que novelles?'

SAV. Out, you fool, you!
[EXIT IN ANGER.

FUNG. She's Out of her Humour, i'faith.

FAST. Nay, let's follow it while 'tis hot, gentlemen.

PUNT. Come, on mine honour we shall make her blush in the presence; my
spleen is great with laughter.

MACI. Your laughter will be a child of a feeble life, I believe, sir.
[ASIDE.] -- Come, signior, your looks are too dejected, methinks; why mix
you not mirth with the rest?