WILL.
'Tis a pleasant gentleman, this young Master Wit.
Your master hath something too: I pray ye, what's it?
WIT.
Look, Will, and guess.
WILL.
'Tis a toad in a shell.
WEALTH.
I had as lief ye had said a frog in a well.
WIT.
Is't not a great butterfly? Will, can'st thou tell?
WILL.
What is it in sadness?
WIT. A tortoise, my boy; whose shell is so hard that a loaden cart may go over and not break it, and so she is safe within, and wheresoever she goes she bears it on her back, needing neither other succour or shelter, but her shell. The word underneath her is Providens securus, the provident is safe, like the tortoise armed with his own defence, and defended with his own armour; in shape somewhat round, signifying compass, wherein always the provident foresee to keep themselves within their own compass, my boy.
WILL.
Wittily spoken. Now, Wealth's master hath got a daffadowndilly.
WEALTH. If Will had not been wilful, now, he might have said a lily, whose glory is without comparison and beauty matchless; for Solomon, the most sumptuous king that ever was, was never comparable in glory with the lily; neither is there any city matchable with the pomp of London. Mistake me not, good boys, that this pomp tends to pride; yet London hath enough, but my Lord Pomp doth rightly represent the stately magnificence and sumptuous estate, without pride or vainglory, to London accommodate; and therefore the word is well applied to the impress (Glory sans peere), for that the lily is neither proud of the beauty, nor vainglorious of the pomp; no more is London; but if it be joyful of anything, it is of the grace and plenty, both flowing from two such fountains as becomes not us to name. Now, therefore, my good boys, know that my master is rather Magnificence than Pomp in bad sense, and rather Pomp than Pride in the best sense.
WILL. And my lord is not Pleasure sprung of Voluptuousness, but of such honourable and kind conceit as heaven and humanity well brooks and allows: Pleasure pleasing, not pernicious.