now horn upon horn pursue thee, thou blind, egregious
dotard!

CAR. O, you shall hear him speak like envy. -- Signior Macilente, you saw
monsieur Brisk lately: I heard you were with him at court.

MACI. Ay, Buffone, I was with him.

CAR. And how is he respected there? I know you'll deal ingenuously with
us; is he made much of amongst the sweeter sort of gallants?

MACI. Faith, ay; his civet and his casting-glass
Have helpt him to a place amongst the rest:
And there, his seniors give him good slight looks,
After their garb, smile, and salute in French
With some new compliment.

CAR. What, is this all?

MACI. Why say, that they should shew the frothy fool
Such grace as they pretend comes from the heart,
He had a mighty windfall out of doubt!
Why, all their graces are not to do grace
To virtue or desert; but to ride both
With their gilt spurs quite breathless, from themselves.
'Tis now esteem'd precisianism in wit,
And a disease in nature, to be kind
Toward desert, to love or seek good names.
Who feeds with a good name? who thrives with loving?
Who can provide feast for his own desires,
With serving others? -- ha, ha, ha!
'Tis folly, by our wisest worldlings proved,
If not to gain by love, to be beloved.

CAR. How like you him? is't not a good spiteful slave, ha?

PUNT. Shrewd, shrewd.

CAR. D--n me! I could eat his flesh now; divine sweet villain!

MACI. Nay, prithee leave: What's he there?

CAR. Who? this in the starched beard? it's the dull stiff knight
Puntarvolo, man; he's to travel now presently: he has a good knotty wit;
marry, he carries little on't out of the land with him.

MACI. How then?

CAR. He puts it forth in venture, as he does his money upon the return of
a dog and cat.

MACI. Is this he?

CAR. Ay, this is he; a good tough gentleman: he looks like a shield of
brawn at Shrove-tide, out of date, and ready to take his leave; or a dry
pole of ling upon Easter-eve, that has furnish'd the table all Lent, as he
has done the city this last vacation.

MACI. Come, you'll never leave your stabbing similes: I shall have you
aiming at me with 'em by and by; but --

CAR. O, renounce me then! pure, honest, good devil, I love thee above the
love of women: I could e'en melt in admiration of thee, now. Ods so, look
here, man; Sir