Clif. I pray you say not so.
Wal. But I will say so!
Because I think so, know so, feel so, sir!
Your fortune, I have heard, I think, is ample!
And doubtless you live up to’t?
Clif. ’Twas my rule,
And is so still, to keep my outlay, sir,
A span within my means.
Wal. A prudent rule!
The turf is a seductive pastime!
Clif. Yes.
Wal. You keep a racing stud? You bet?
Clif. No, neither.
’Twas still my father’s precept—“Better owe
A yard of land to labour, than to chance
Be debtor for a rood!”
Wal. ’Twas a wise precept.
You’ve a fair house—you’ll get a mistress for it?
Clif. In time!
Wal. In time! ’Tis time thy choice were made.
Is’t not so yet? Or is thy lady love
The newest still thou seest?