Unto Cornuto's shop? What other cause But chaste Brownetta,[352] Sporo thither draws? Who now so long hath praised the chough's white bill, That he hath left her ne'er a flying quill: His meaning gain, though outward semblance love, So like a crabfish Sporo still doth move. 70 Laugh, laugh, to see the world, Democritus, Cry like that strange transformèd Tereus.[353] Now Sorbo, with a feignèd gravity, Doth fish for honour and high dignity. Nothing within, nor yet without, but beard, Which thrice he strokes, before I ever heard One wise grave word to bless my listening ear. But mark how Good Opinion doth him rear: See, he's in office, on his foot-cloth placed; Now each man caps, and strives for to be graced 80 With some rude nod of his majestic head, Which all do wish in limbo harrièd. But O I grieve that good men deign to be Slaves unto him that's slave to villany! Now Sorbo swells with self-conceited sense, Thinking that men do yield this reverence Unto his virtues: fond credulity! Ass, take[354] off Isis, no man honours thee. Great Tubrio's feather gallantly doth wave, Full twenty falls[355] doth make him wondrous brave. 90 O golden jerkin! royal arming coat! Like ship on sea, he on the land doth float. He's gone, he's shipp'd, his resolution Pricks him[356] (by Heaven) to this action. The pox it doth! Not long since did I view The man betake him to a common stew; And there (I wis), like no quaint-stomach'd man, Eats up his arms; and war's munition, His waving plume, falls in the broker's chest. Fie! that his ostrich stomach should disgest 100 His ostrich feather, eat up Venice lace! Thou[357] that didst fear to eat poor-johns a space, Lie close, ye slave, at beastly luxury! Melt and consume in pleasure's surquedry![358] But now, thou that didst march with Spanish pike before, Come with French pox out of that brothel door. The fleet's return'd. What news from Rodio?[359] "Hot service, by the Lord," cries Tubrio. Why dost thou halt? "Why, six times through each thigh Push'd with the pike of the hot enemy! 110 Hot service, hot, the Spaniard is a man; I say no more, and as a gentleman I served in his face. Farewell. Adieu." Welcome from Netherland, from steaming stew. Ass to thy crib, doff that huge lion's skin, Or else the owl will hoot and drive thee in. For shame, for shame! lewd-living Tubrio, Presume not troop among that gallant crew Of true heroic spirits; come, uncase, Show us the true form of Dametas'[360] face. 120 Hence, hence, ye slave! dissemble not thy state, But henceforth be a turncoat, runagate. O hold my sides! that I may break my spleen With laughter at the shadows I have seen! Yet I can bear with Curio's nimble feet, Saluting me with capers in the street,