DICER. 'Zwounds, sir, he mocks you.
PROD. Gibe not with me, you whoreson rascal slave!
For money I come, and money will I have.
Sirrah Vanity, Vanity! What, Vanity!
Speak and be hang'd, Vanity! What, will't not be?
DICER. What a prodigious knave, what a slave is this? [Aside.
PROD. Fortune, fine Fortune, you minion, if ye be wise,
Bethink ye betimes, take better advice:
Restore unto me my money quietly,
Else look for wars: Vanity, Fortune, Vanity!
DICER. Sir, you see it booteth not.
PROD. It is but my ill-luck.
Now the devil and his dam give them both suck!
What may we do? what counsel giv'st thou, Dick?
DICER. Marry, sir, be rul'd by me; I'll show you a trick,
How you may have him quickly.
PROD. As how?
DICER. Scale the walls: in at the window; by force fet him.
PROD. None better, in faith; fetch a ladder, and I will set him.
Fortune, thou injurious dame, thou shalt not by this villany
Have cause to triumph over Prodigality.
Why speak'st thou not? why speak'st thou not, I say?
Thy silence doth but breed thine own hurt and decay.