Enter Fox.
Hold. Well, sir, your malapertness will get you nothing.—Fox!
Fox. Here.
Hold. A prisoner to the hole: take charge of him, and use him as scurvily as thou canst. You shall be taught your duty, sir, I warrant you.
Spend. Hence, slavish tyrants, instruments of torture!
There is more kindness yet in whores than you;
For when a man hath spent all, he may go
And seek his way, they'll kick him out of doors,
Not keep him in as you do, and enforce him
To be the subject of their cruelty.
You have no mercy; but be this your comfort,
The punishment and tortures which you do
Inflict on men, the devils shall on you.
Hold. Well, sir, you may talk, but you shall see the end, and who shall have the worst of it.
[Exit Holdfast.
Spend. Why, villain, I shall have the worst, I know it,
And am prepar'd to suffer like a stoic;
Or else (to speak more properly) like a stock;
For I have no sense left. Dost thou think I have?
Fox. Zounds, I think he's mad.
Spend. Why, thou art in the right; for I am mad, indeed,
And have been mad these two years. Dost thou think
I could have spent so much as I have done
In wares and credit, had I not been mad?
Why, thou must know, I had a fair estate
Which, through my riot, I have torn in pieces,
And scatter'd amongst bawds, buffoons, and whores,
That fawn'd on me, and by their flatteries
Rock'd all my understanding faculties
Into a pleasant slumber; where I dreamt
Of nought but joy and pleasure: never felt
How I was lull'd in sensuality,
Until at last affliction waked me,
And, lighting up the taper of my soul,
Led me unto myself, where I might see
A mind and body rent with misery.
[A prisoner within.