Reechy

BORACHIO. Seest thou not, I say, what a deformed thief this fashion is? how giddily he turns about all the hot bloods between fourteen and five-and-thirty? sometime fashioning them like Pharaoh's soldiers in the reechy painting; sometime like god Bel's priests in the old church-window; sometime like the shaven Hercules in the smirched worm-eaten tapestry, where his codpiece seems as massy as his club?

Let the bloat King tempt you again to bed Pinch wanton on your cheek, call you his mouse And let him for a pair of reechy kisses, Or paddling in your neck with his damned fingers, Make you to ravel all this matter out That I essentially am not in madness But mad in craft.

Lies to rest in difficult care For your pleasures to be there, dissolves in a bed of chair Reechy institutional man