Sir Vau. Nay your oohs, nor your Callin-oes cannot serue your turne; your tongue you know is full of blisters with rayling, your face full of pockey-holes and pimples, with your fierie inuentions: and therefore to preserue your head from aking, this Biggin is yours,——nay by Sesu you shall bee a Poet, though not Lawrefyed, yet Nettlefyed, so:
Tuc. Sirra stincker, thou’rt but vntruss’d now, I owe thee a whipping still, and Ile pay it: I haue layde roddes in Pisse and Vineger for thee: It shall not bee the Whipping a’ th Satyre, nor the Whipping of the blinde-Beare, but of a counterfeit Iugler, that steales the name of Horace.
Kin. How? counterfeit? does hee vsurpe that name?
Sir Vau. Yes indeede ant please your Grace, he does sup vp that abhominable name.
Tuc. Hee does O King Cambises, hee does: thou hast no part of Horace in thee but’s name, and his damnable vices: thou hast such a terrible mouth, that thy beard’s afraide to peepe out: but, looke heere you staring Leuiathan, heere’s the sweete visage of Horace; looke perboylde-face, looke; Horace had a trim long-beard, and a reasonable good face for a Poet, (as faces goe now-a-dayes) Horace did not skrue and wriggle himselfe into great Mens famyliarity, (impudentlie) as thou doost: nor weare the Badge of Gentlemens company, as thou doost thy Taffetie sleeues tackt too onely with some pointes of profit: No, Horace had not his face puncht full of Oylet-holes, like the couer of a warming-pan: Horace lou’d Poets well, and gaue Coxcombes to none but fooles; but thou lou’st none, neither Wisemen nor fooles, but thy selfe: Horace was a goodly Corpulent Gentleman, and not so leane a hollow-cheekt Scrag as thou art: No, heere’s thee Coppy of thy countenance, by this will I learne to make a number of villanous faces more, and to looke scuruily vpon’th world, as thou dost.
Cri. Sir Vaughan will you minister their oath?
Sir Vau. Master Asinius Bubo, you shall sweare as little as you can, one oath shall damme vp your Innocent mouth.
Asin. Any oath Sir, Ile sweare any thing.
Sir Va. You shall sweare, by Phœbus (who is your Poets good Lord and Master,) that heere-after you will not hyre Horace, to giue you poesies for rings, or hand-kerchers, or kniues which you vnderstand not, nor to write your Loue-letters; which you (in turning of a hand) set your markes vpon, as your owne: nor you shall not carry Lattin Poets about you, till you can write and read English at most; and lastlye that you shall not call Horace your Ningle.
Asin. By Phœbus I sweare all this, and as many oathes as you will, so I may trudge.