Spend. Nay, good words, Mistress Sweatman: he's a young gallant; you must not weigh what he says.
Rash. I would my lamentable complaining lover had been here: here had been a supersedeas for his melancholy; and, i' faith, Frank, I am glad my father has turned over his shop to thee. I hope I, or any friend of mine, shall have so much credit with thee, as to stand in thy books for a suit of satin.
Spend. For a whole piece, if you please; any friend of yours shall command me to the last remnant.
Rash. Why, God-a-mercy, Frank; what, shall's to dice?
Spend. Dice or drink: here's forty crowns: as long as that will last—anything.
Rash. Why, there spoke a gingling boy.
Spend. A pox of money! 'tis but rubbish; and he that hoards it up is but a scavenger. If there be cards i' the house, let's go to primero.
Rash. Primero! why, I thought thou hadst not been so much gamester as to play at it.
Spend. Gamester! to say truth, I am none; but what is it I will not be in good company? I will fit myself to all humours; I will game with a gamester, drink with a drunkard, be civil with a citizen, fight with a swaggerer, and drab with a whoremaster.