Amp. Thus wanton revelling breeds beggary.
Brother, ’twere better that you still lived poor.
Want would make wisdom rich: but when your coffers
Swell to the brim, then riot sets up sails,
And like a desperate unskilled mariner
Drives your unsteady fortunes on the point
Of wreck inevitable. Of all the wealth
Left by our father, when he left us last,
This little is unspent, and this being wasted,
Your riot ends; therefore consume it all.
I’ll live; or dying, find some burial.
Andel. Thanks for my crowns.[372] Shadow, I am villainous hungry, to hear one of the seven wise masters talk thus emptily.
Shad. I am a villain, master, if I am not hungry.
Andel. Because I’ll save this gold, sirrah Shadow, we’ll feed ourselves with paradoxes.
Shad. Oh rare: what meat’s that?
Andel. Meat, you gull: ’tis no meat: a dish of paradoxes is a feast of strange opinion, ’tis an ordinary that our greatest gallants haunt nowadays, because they would be held for statesmen.
Shad. I shall never fill my belly with opinions.
Andel. In despite of sway-bellies, gluttons, and sweet mouthed epicures, I’ll have thee maintain a paradox in commendations of hunger.
Shad. I shall never have the stomach to do’t.
Andel. See’st thou this crusado?[373] do it, and turn this into a feast.