Hor monologue (Act 4) — The Poetaster

And why, thou motley gull, why should they fear! When hast thou known us wrong or tax a friend? I dare thy malice to betray it. Speak. Now thou curl'st up, thou poor and nasty snake, And shrink'st thy poisonous head into thy bosom: Out, viper! thou that eat'st thy parents, hence! Rather, such speckled creatures, as thyself, Should be eschew'd, and shunn'd; such as will bite And gnaw their absent friends, not cure their fame; Catch at the loosest laughters, and affect To be thought jesters; such as can devise Things never seen, or head, t'impair men's names, And gratify their credulous adversaries; Will carry tales, do basest offices, Cherish divided fires, and still encrease New flames, out of old embers; will reveal Each secret that's committed to their trust: These be black slaves; Romans, take heed of these.