Enter Tom Lurcher, and Jack Wild-brain.
Lur. JAck.
Wild. What wind brought thee hither?
In what [old] hollow tree, or rotten wall
Hast thou been like a Swallow all this winter,
Where hast thou been man?
Lur. Following the Plow.
Wild. What Plow? Thou hast no Land,
Stealing is thy own purchase.
Wild. Not in my opinion,
Thou hadst five hundred pound a year.
Lur. 'Tis gone,
Prethee no more on't, have I not told thee,
And oftentimes, nature made all men equal,
Her distribution to each child alike;
Till labour came and thrust a new Will in,
Which I allow not: till men won a priviledge
By that they call endeavour, which indeed
Is nothing but a lawful Cosenage,
An allowed way to cheat, why should my neigh[bou]r
That hath no more soul than his Horse-keeper,
Nor bounteous faculties above a Broom-man,
Have forty thousand pounds, and I four groats;
Why should he keep it?
Wi[l]. Thy old opinion still.
Lur. Why should that Scrivener,
That ne'er writ reason in his life, nor anything
That time e'ver gloried in, that never knew
How to keep any courtesie conceal'd,
But Noverint Universi must proclaim it,
Purchase perpetually, and I a rascal:
Consider this, why should that mouldy Cobler
Marry his Daughter to a wealthy Merchant,
And give five thousand pounds, is this good justice?
Because he has a tougher constitution;
Can feed upon old Songs, and save his money,
Therefore must I go beg?