 | A Fine Companion |  |
Scena. III.
Carelesse, Fido.Car.
Nere tell mee on't, a Gentleman must shew himselfe
to be a Gentleman.
Fid.
I so he must sir, but in you there's small resemblance
of one.
Car.
Come you are an importunate Asse, a dull heavie fellow,
and I must beare with you must I? by this light I will
not liue out of the blaze of my fortunes, though it last but a
minute, to linger out a tedious siege of adversities.
Fid.
Yet you may liue with more credit, at a competent
rate as your land will allow you.
Car.
Land? there was my unhappinesse to haue any, I was
borne to none, 'twas meerely thrust upon me, and now I can
not be quiet for it; tis like a wife that brings a thousand impediments;
in peace, your Magnifico stops his great horse to salute me,
an other treats of marriage, and offers me his daughter, your
Advocate racks me with impertinences, and to free my land
from incumbrances troubles me ten times worse, what with
friends and Counsellors, fellowes that seeme to me of an other
species I could resigne my interest.
Fid.
All this sir is a grace to you, if you conceiue it.
Car.
I'le sell all, twere a sinne to keepe it. When didst
thou know an elder brother disinherited, and the land continue
with the issue? now for me to liue thriftily upon it, were
no otherwise then to mock fate and contemne providence.
Fid.
But now you know the danger, you may prevent it.
Car.
What should I dote upon casualties, trust Scriveners
with my money, fellowes that will breake, and all the wit in
Towne can't solder them up againe?
Fid.
You may scorne my advice, but when tis too late—
Car.
I tell thee, I'le keepe no land, nor no houses, candle
rents that are subject to fire and ruine, I can't sleepe for feare
of them; theres no danger in coyne, twill make a man respected,
drinke, and bee drunke, weare good cloaths, and liue
as free as a Parthian.
Fid.
But when all's gone, where's your respect, and gentility
then?
Car.
Where ist? why in my blood still, wee'l both runne
one course nere out of the vaine I warrant thee.
Fid.
If you can hold in this vaine tis more lasting then a
minerall.
Car.
Prethee good honest, old patcht peece of experience,
goe home and weare thy selfe out in contemplation, and
doe not vexe me with problemes, they can doe no more good
upon me, then a young pittifull Lover upon a Mistresse, that has
the sullens.
Fid.
Well sir, I could willingly waite upon you in the way
of honour and reputation.
Car.
No no, you shall not need my homo frugi, goe about
your busines, and though men of my quality, doe seldome
part with any thing, for good vses, for Gamesters and Courtiers
haue but little charity, yet for this once, I will trespasse
against custome, and here's something to put you into a fortune,
me, and my occasions.
Fid.
I see yet in his good nature a reluctancie against ill
courses, hee has not quite shak'd off his humanity, there are
hopes to reclaime him; if not sir gallant, when all is spent,
the returne of this money will be gratefull; and so farewell.
Exit Fido.
Car.
Adiew, and commend me to my Vncle, tell the Mechanicks
without, that I vouchsafe them admittance. I will
not spend all in whoring and sack. I will haue some cloaths
of valew, though they be but to pawne in a vacation, for this
purpose I haue sent this morning to consult with the authentiall
iudgements, of my Taylor, Sempster and Haberdasher;
and now am I studying with what state I shall use them.
| A Fine Companion | |