Foro. Ha! ha! ha! tolerably good, good faith, sweet wag.
Alb. Umph; why tolerably good, good faith, sweet wag? Go, go; you flatter me.
Foro. Right; I but dispose my speech to the habit of my part.
Alb. Why, what plays he?
[To Feliche.
Feli. The wolf that eats into the breasts of princes; that breeds the lethargy and falling sickness in honour; makes justice look asquint; and blinds[38] the eye of merited reward from viewing desertful virtue. 51
Alb. What’s all this periphrasis, ha?
Feli. The substance of a supple-chapt flatterer.
Alb. O! doth he play Forobosco the Parasite? Good, i’faith. Sirrah, you must seem now as glib and straight in outward semblance as a lady’s busk,[39] though inwardly as cross as a pair of tailors’ legs; having a tongue as nimble as his needle, with servile patches of glavering flattery to stitch up the bracks[40] of unworthily honour’d— 60
Foro. I warrant you, I warrant you, you shall see me prove the very periwig to cover the bald pate of brainless