Beau. And now we are at home in our natural hives, and sleep like drones; but there's a gentleman on the other side the water,[41] that may make work for us all one day.
Cour. But in the meanwhile—
Beau. In the meanwhile patience, Courtine; that is the Englishman's virtue. Go to the man that owes you money, and tell him you are necessitated; his answer shall be "A little patience, I beseech you, sir." Ask a cowardly rascal satisfaction for a sordid injury done you; he shall cry, "Alas-a-day, sir, you are the strangest man living, you won't have patience to hear one speak." Complain to a great man that you want preferment, that you have forsaken considerable advantages abroad, in obedience to public edicts; all you shall get of him is this, "You must have patience, sir."
Cour. But will patience feed me, or clothe me, or keep me clean?
Beau. Pr'ythee no more hints of poverty: 'tis scandalous; 'sdeath, I would as soon choose to hear a soldier brag as complain. Dost thou want any money?
Cour. True, indeed, I want no necessaries to keep me alive; but I do not enjoy myself with that freedom I would do; there is no more pleasure in living at stint, than there is in living alone. I would have it in my power, when he needed me, to serve and assist my friend; I would to my ability deal handsomely too by the woman that pleased me.
Beau. Oh, fie for shame! you would be a whore-master, friend; go, go, I'll have no more to do with you.
Cour. I would not be forced neither at any time to avoid a gentleman that had obliged me, for want of money to pay him a debt contracted in our old acquaintance: it turns my stomach to wheedle with the rogue I scorn, when he uses me scurvily, because he has my name in his shop-book.
Beau. As, for example, to endure the familiarities of a rogue that shall cock his greasy hat in my face, when he duns me, and at the same time vail it[42] to an over-grown deputy of the ward, though a frowzy fellmonger.
Cour. To be forced to concur with his nonsense too, and laugh at his parish-jests.