Pietro. I wonder what religion thou art of?[356]
Mal. Of a soldier’s religion.
Pietro. And what dost thou[357] think makes most infidels now? 51
Mal. Sects, sects. I have seen seeming piety change
her robe so oft, that sure none but some arch-devil can shape her a new[358] petticoat.
Pietro. O, a religious policy.
Mal. But, damnation on a politic religion! I am weary: would I were one of the duke’s hounds now![359]
Pietro. But what’s the common news abroad, Malevole? thou doggest rumour still. 59
Mal. Common news! why, common words are, God save ye, Fare ye well; common actions, flattery and cozenage; common things, women and cuckolds.—And how does my little Ferrard? Ah, ye lecherous animal!—my little ferret, he goes sucking up and down the palace into every hen’s nest, like a weasel:—and to what dost thou addict thy time to now more than to those antique painted drabs that are still effected of young courtiers,—flattery, pride, and venery?
Fer. I study languages. Who dost think to be the best linguist of our age? 70