Pet. Speak your demand.
Lio. Do it, and do it freely, then; lend me a hundred ducats.
Pet. How is that? lend you a hundred ducats! Not a —— I'll never have a friend while I breathe first: no, I'll stand upon my guard; I give all the world leave to whet their wits against me, work like moles to undermine me, yet I'll spurn all their deceits like a hillock. I tell thee I'll not buy the small repentance of a friend or whore at the rate of a livre.
Lio. What's this? I dare not
Trust my own ears, silence choke up my anger.
A friend and whore! are they two parallels,
Or to be nam'd together? May he never
Have better friend that knows no better how
To value them. Well, I was ever jealous[302]
Of his baseness, and now my fears are ended.
Pox o' these travels! they do but corrupt
A good nature, and his was bad enough before.
Enter Angelia.
Pet. What pretty sparkle of humanity have we here? Whose attendant are you, my little knave?
Ang. I wait, sir, on Master Lionel.
Lio. 'Tis well you are come. What says the gentleman?
Ang. I delivered your letter to him. He is very sorry he can furnish you no better; he has sent you twenty crowns, he says, towards the large debt he owes you.
Pet. A fine child! and delivers his tale with good method. Where, in the name of Ganymede, had'st thou this epitome of a servitor?