Enter Young Lord Wealthy.
But see where stands my shame, whose indiscretion
Doth seem to bury all the living honours
Of all our ancestors; but 'tis the fates' decree,
That men might know their weak mortality.
Y. Lord W. Sir, I cannot find my sister.
O. Lord W. I know thou canst not: 'twere too rare to see
Wisdom found out by ignorance.
Y. Lord W. How, father! is it not possible that wisdom should be found out by ignorance? I pray, then, how do many magnificoes come by it?
O. Lord W. They buy it, son, as you had need to do.
Yet wealth without that may live more content
Than wit's enjoyers can, debarr'd of wealth.
All pray for wealth, but I never heard yet
Of any but one that e'er pray'd for wit.
He's counted wise enough in these vain times,
That hath but means enough to wear gay clothes,
And be an outside of humanity. What matters it a pin,
How indiscreet soe'er a natural be,
So that his wealth be great? that's it doth cause
Wisdom in these days to give fools applause.
And when gay folly speaks, how vain soe'er,
Wisdom must silent sit, and speech forbear.
Y. Lord W. Then wisdom must sit as mute as learning among many courtiers. But, father, I partly suspect that Carracus hath got my sister.
O. Lord W. With child, I fear, ere this.
Y. Lord W. By'r Lady, and that may be true. But, whether he has or no, it's all one: if you please, I'll take her from under his nose, in spite on's teeth, and ask him no leave.