Hort. What do you think of these perfumed gallants, then?
Flam. Their satin cannot save them: I am confident
They have a certain spice of the disease;
For they that sleep with dogs shall rise with fleas.
Zan. Believe it, a little painting and gay clothes make you loathe me.
Flam. How, love a lady for painting or gay apparel? I 'll unkennel one
example more for thee. AEsop had a foolish dog that let go the flesh to
catch the shadow; I would have courtiers be better diners.
Zan. You remember your oaths?
Flam. Lovers' oaths are like mariners' prayers, uttered in extremity;
but when the tempest is o'er, and that the vessel leaves tumbling, they
fall from protesting to drinking. And yet, amongst gentlemen,
protesting and drinking go together, and agree as well as shoemakers
and Westphalia bacon: they are both drawers on; for drink draws on
protestation, and protestation draws on more drink. Is not this
discourse better now than the morality of your sunburnt gentleman?
Enter Cornelia
Corn. Is this your perch, you haggard? fly to th' stews.
[Strikes Zanche.
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