borrow this,
I like it well. _Cow._ Tis at your service Sir,
A lath in a velvet scabbard will serve my turne.

_Eust._ And now I have it leave me; y'are infectious,
The plague and leprosie of your baseness spreading
On all that doe come neere you; such as you
Render the Throne of Majesty, the Court
Suspected and contemptible, you are Scarabee's
That batten in her dung, and have no pallats
To taste her curious viands, and like Owles
Can onely see her night deformities,
But with the glorious splendor of her beauties
You are struck blinde as Moles, that undermine
The sumptuous building that allow'd you shelter,
You stick like running ulcers on her face,
And taint the pureness of her native candor,
And being bad servants, cause your masters goodness
To be disputed of; you make the Court
That is the abstract of all Academies,
To teach and practice noble undertakings,
(Where courage sits triumphant crown'd with Lawrel,
And wisedome loaded with the weight of honour)
A Schoole of vices. _Egre._ What sudden rapture's this?

_Eust._ A heavenly one that raising me from sloth and ignorance,
(In which your conversation long hath charm'd me)
Carries me up into the aire of action,
And knowledge of my selfe; even now I feele
But pleading onely in the Courts defence,
(Though far[r]e short of her merits and bright lustre)
A happy alteration, and full strength
To stand her Champion against all the world,
That throw aspersions on her. _Cow._ Sure hee'l beat us,
I see it in his eyes. _Egre._ A second _Charles_;
Pray look not Sir so furiously. _Eust._ Recant
What you have said, ye Mungrils, and licke up
The vomit you have cast upon the Court,
Where you unworthily have had warmth and breeding,
And sweare that you like Spiders, have made poyson
Of that which was a saving antidote.

_Egre._ We will sweare any thing. _Cow._ We honour the Court
As a most sacred place. _Egre._ And will make oath,
If you enjoyne us to't, nor knave nor fool,
Nor Coward living in it. _Eust._ Except you two,
You Rascals! _Cow._ Yes, we are all these, and more,
If you will have it so. _Eust._ And that until
You are again reform'd and growne new men,
You nere presume to name the Court, or presse
Into the Porters Lodge but for a penance,
To be disciplin'd for your roguery, and this done
With true contrition. _Both._ Yes Sir. _Eust._ You againe
May eat scraps and be thankful. _Cow._ Here's a cold breakfast
After a sharpe nights walking. _Eus