GILTHEAD

Boy, boy, We live, by finding fools out, to be trusted. Our shop-books are our pastures, our corn-grounds, We lay them op'n, for them to come into: And when we have them there, we driven them up In one of our two Pounds, the Compters, straight, And this is to make you a Gentleman! We Citizens never trust, but we do cozen: For, if our debtors pay, we cozen them; And if they do not, then we cozen our selves. But that's a hazard every one must run, That Hope's to make his Son a Gentleman! I, if we had and Act first to forbid The marrying of our wealthy heirs unto them: And daughters, with such lavish portions. That confounds all. In truth, Sir I cannot. IT has been a long vacation with us, That year S r , That I begotten him, I bought Plutarch's lives, And fell shall in love with the book, as I called my son By 'his name; In hope he should be Like him: And write the lives of our great men! His mind, Sir, lies Much to that way. But, now, I had rather get him a good wife, And plant him i'the country; there to use The blessing I shall leave him I have placed him With Justice Eitherside, to get so much law— Why, I do mean it, boy; but, what I do, Must not come easily from me: We must deal With Courtiers, boy, as Courtiers deal with us. If I have a Business there, with any of them, Why, I must wait, I'am sure on't, Son: and though My Lord dispatch me, yet his worshipful man— Will keep me for his sport, a month, or two, To show me with my fellow Citizens. I must make his train long, and full, one quarter; And help the spectacle of his greatness. There, Nothing is done at once, but injuries, boy: And they come headlong! all their good turns move not, Or very slowly Well, I will think. Twenty pieces? No, Sir, I assure you: Look on his luster! he will speak himself! I'll gi'you leave to put him i'the Mill, H'is no great, large stone, but a true Paragon, H'has all his corners, view him well. Vpo'my faith, S r , o'the right blackwater, And very deep! H'is set without a foil, too. Here's one o'the yellow-water, I'll fell cheap. No, Sir, he cost me forty, ere he was set. Yes Sir, officers Arrest him. For better security, Sir. My son Plutarchus Assures me, you're not worth a groat. Yes, and more. Arrest this gallant too, here, at my suit. The Pro ject of forks For what? How the Devil can act! You do well, Sir: I Like the fashion of the project, well, The forks! It may be a lucky one! and is not Intricate, as one would say, but fit for Plain heads, as ours, to deal in. Do you hear Officers, we discharge you.