Asi. Nay that’s certaine, ile bring 100. gallants of my ranke.
Hor. That same Crispinus is the silliest Dor, and Faninus the slightest cob-web-lawne peece of a Poet, oh God!
Why should I care what euery Dor doth buz
In credulous eares, it is a crowne to me,
That the best iudgements can report me wrong’d.
Asi. I am one of them that can report it.
Hor. I thinke but what they are, and am not moou’d.
The one a light voluptuous Reueler,
The other, a strange arrogating puffe,
Both impudent, and arrogant enough.
Asin. S’lid do not Criticus Reuel in these lynes, ha Ningle ha?
Hor. Yes, they’re mine owne.
Cris. Horrace.
Dem. Flaccus.
Cris. Horrace, not vp yet.