JUDICIO. What, Monsieur Kinsayder, lifting up your leg, and pissing against the world? put up, man, put up, for shame! Methinks he is a ruffian in his style, Withouten bands or garters' ornament: He quaffs a cup of Frenchman's Helicon; Then roister doister in his oily terms, Cuts, thrusts, and foins, at whomsoever he meets, And strews about Ram-Alley meditations. Tut, what cares he for modest close-couch'd terms, Cleanly to gird our looser libertines? Give him plain naked words, stripp'd from their shirts, That might beseem plain-dealing Aretine. Ay, there is one, that backs a paper steed, And manageth a penknife gallantly, Strikes his poinardo at a button's breadth, Brings the great battering-ram of terms to towns; And, at first volley of his cannon-shot, Batters the walls of the old fusty world. INGENIOSO. Christopher Marlowe? JUDICIO. Marlowe was happy in his buskin'd muse; Alas! unhappy in his life and end: Pity it is that wit so ill should dwell Wit lent from heav'n, but vices sent from hell.[53] INGENIOSO. Our theatre hath lost, Pluto hath got, A tragic penman for a dreary plot. Benjamin Jonson? JUDICIO. The wittiest fellow of a bricklayer in England. INGENIOSO. A mere empiric, one that gets what he hath by observation, and makes only nature privy to what he indites; so slow an inventor, that he were better betake himself to his old trade of bricklaying; a bold whoreson, as confident now in making of[54] a book, as he was in times past in laying of a brick. William Shakespeare? JUDICIO. Who loves Adonis' love or Lucrece' rape, His sweeter verse contains heart-robbing life, Could but a graver subject him content, Without love's foolish, lazy[55] languishment. INGENIOSO. Churchyard?[56] Hath not Shore's wife, although a light-skirts she, Giv'n him a chaste, long-lasting memory? JUDICIO. No; all light pamphlets once I finden shall, A Churchyard and a grave to bury all! Thomas Nash.[57] INGENIOSO. Ay, here is a fellow, Judicio, that carried the deadly stock[58] in his pen, whose muse was armed with a gag-tooth,[59] and his pen possessed with Hercules' furies. JUDICIO. Let all his faults sleep with his mournful chest, And then for ever with his ashes rest: His style was witty, though he had some gall, Something he might have mended; so may all: Yet this I say that, for a mother-wit, Few men have ever seen the like of it. INGENIOSO _reads the rest of the names_. JUDICIO. As for these, they have some of them been the old hedge-stakes of the press; and some of them are, at this instant, the bots and glanders of the printing-house: fellows that stand only upon terms to serve the term,[60] with their blotted papers, write, as men go to stool, for needs; and when they write, they write as a bear pisses, now and then drop a pamphlet.