For a conceal’d idiot,[432] if thou credit him;
He’s a hyena,[433] and with civet scent
Of perfumed words, draws to make a prey
For laughter of thy credit. O this hot crackling love,
That blazeth on an instant, flames me out
On the least puff of kindness, with “protest, protest!”
Catzo, I dread these hot protests, that press,
Come on so fast. No, no! away, away! 80
You are a common friend, or will betray.
Let me clip amity that’s got with suit;
I hate this whorish love that’s prostitute.
Lav. Horn on my tailor! could he not bring home
My satin taffeta or tissue suit,
But I must needs be cloth’d in woollen thus?
Bidet, what says he for my silver hose,
And primrose satin doublet? God’s my life!
Gives he no more observance to my body?
Lam. O, in that last suit, gentle Laverdure, 90
Visit my lodging. By Apollo’s front,
Do but inquire my name. O straight they’ll say,
Lampatho suits himself in such a hose.
Sim. Mark that, Quadratus.
Lam. Consorts himself with such a doublet.
Sim. Good, good, good! O Jesu! admirable.
Lav. La la, ly ro, sir!
Lam. O Pallas! Quadratus, hark! hark! A most complete phantasma, a most ridiculous humour; prithee shoot him through and through with a jest; make him lie by the lee, thou basilisco[434] of wit. 101
Sim. O Jesu! admirably well spoken; angelical tongue!