What, sir? all are not courtiers that have a counterfeit show;
In a troop of honest men some knaves may stand, ye know,
Such as by stealth creep in under the colour of honesty,
Which sort under that cloak do all kinds of villainy,
A right courtier is virtuous, gentle, and full of urbanity,
Hurting no man, good to all, devoid of villainy:
But such as thou art, fountains of squirrility and vain delights;
Though you hang by the court, you are but flatt’ring parasites;
As well deserving the right name of courtesy,
As the coward knight the true praise of chivalry.