Besides that, he is too much given to horseplay in his raillery, and comes to battle like a dictator from the plow.

I will not say: "The zeal of God's house has eaten him up;" but I am sure it has devoured some part of his good manners and civility.

It might also be doubted whether it were altogether zeal which prompted him to this rough manner of proceeding: perhaps it became not one of his function to rake into the rubbish of ancient and modern plays; a divine might have employ'd his pains to better purpose than in the nastiness of Plautus and Aristophanes; whose examples, as they excuse not me, so it might be possibly supposed that he read them not without some pleasure.

They who have written commentaries on those poets, or on Horace, Juvenal, and Martial, have explain'd some vices which, without their interpretation, had been unknown to modern times.

Neither has he judg'd impartially betwixt the former age and us.
There is more bawdry in one play of Fletcher's, call'd _The Custom of the Country_, than in all ours together.