serves to enlarge the territories of hell
that, but for you, had been no bigger than a pair of stocks or a
pillory; you, that hate a scholar because he descries your ass's ears;
you that are a plague-stuffed cloak-bag of all iniquity, which the
grand serving-man of hell will one day truss up behind him, and carry
to his smoky wardrobe.

RECORDER.
What frantic fellow art thou, that art possessed with the spirit of
malediction?

FUROR.
Vile, muddy clod of base, unhallowed clay,
Thou slimy-sprighted, unkind Saracen,
When thou wert born, Dame Nature cast her calf;
For age and time hath made thee a great ox,
And now thy grinding jaws devour quite
The fodder due to us of heavenly spright.

PHANTASMA.
_Nefasto te posuit die,
Quicunque primum, et sacrilega manu
Produxit arbos in nepotum
Perniciem obpropriumque pugi_.

INGENIOSO.
I pray you, Monsieur Ploidon, of what university was the first lawyer
of? None, forsooth: for your law is ruled by reason, and not by art;
great reason, indeed, that a Polydenist should be mounted on a trapped
palfry with a round velvet dish on his head, to keep warm the broth of
his wit, and a long gown that makes him look like a _Cedant arma togae_,
whilst the poor Aristotelians walk in a short cloak and a close Venetian
hose, hard by the oyster-wife; and the silly poet goes muffled in his
cloak to escape the counter. And you, Master Amoretto, that art the
chief carpenter of sonnets, a privileged vicar for the lawless marriage
of ink and paper, you that are good for nothing but to commend in a set
speech, to colour the quantity of your mistress's stool, and swear it is
most sweet civet; it's fine, when that puppet-player Fortune must put
such a Birchen-Lane post in so good a suit, such an ass in so good
fortune!

AMORETTO.
Father, shall I draw?

SIR RADERIC.
No, son; keep thy peace, and hold the peace.

INGENIOSO.
Nay, do not draw, lest you chance to bepiss your credit.

FUROR.
_Flectere si nequeo superos, Acheronta movebo_.
Fearful Megaera, with her snaky twine,
Was cursed dam unto thy damned self;
And Hircan tigers in the desert rocks
Did foster up thy loathed, hateful life;
Base Ignorance the wicked cradle rock'd,
Vile Barbarism was wont to dandle thee;
Some wicked hellhound tutored thy youth.
And all the grisly sprights of griping hell
With mumming look hath dogg'd thee since thy birth:
See how the spirits do hover o'er thy head,
As thick as gnats in summer eveningtide.
B