Fort. Now tell me, wags, hath my purse gold or no?
Andel. We the wags have gold, father; but I think there’s not one angel more wagging in this sacred temple. Why, this is rare: Shadow, five will serve thy turn, give me th’ other five.
Shad. Nay, soft, master, liberality died long ago. I see some rich beggars are never well, but when they be craving: my ten ducats are like my ten fingers, they will not jeopard a joint for you. I am yours, and these are mine; if I part from them, I shall never have part of them.
Amp. Father, if Heaven have blest you once again,
Let not an open hand disperse that store,
Which gone, life’s gone; for all tread down the poor.
Fort. Peace, Ampedo, talk not of poverty.
Disdain, my boys, to kiss the tawny cheeks
Of lean necessity: make not inquiry
How I came rich; I am rich, let that suffice.
There are four leathern bags trussed full of gold:
Those spent, I’ll fill you more. Go, lads, be gallant:
Shine in the streets of Cyprus like two stars,
And make them bow their knees that once did spurn you;
For, to effect such wonders, gold can turn you.
Brave it in Famagosta, or elsewhere;
I’ll travel to the Turkish Emperor,
And then I’ll revel it with Prester John,[361]
Or banquet with great Cham[362] of Tartary,
And try what frolic court the Soldan keeps.
I’ll leave you presently. Tear off these rags;
Glitter, my boys, like angels,[363] that the world
May, whilst our life in pleasure’s circle roams,
Wonder at Fortunatus and his sons.
Andel. Come, Shadow, now we’ll feast it royally.
Shad. Do, master, but take heed of beggary. [Exeunt.
