Nich. O master Phillip, forbeare; you must not leape over the style before you come at it; haste makes waste; softe fire makes sweete malt; not too fast for falling; there's no hast to hang true men. 376
Phil. Father, we ha'te, ye see, we ha'te. Now will I see if my memorie will serve for some proverbs too. O,—a painted cloath were as wel worth a shilling as a theefe woorth a halter; well, after my heartie commendations, as I was at the making hereof; so it is, that I hope as you speed, so you're sure; a swift horse will tire, but he that trottes easilie will indure. You have most learnedly proverbde it, commending the vertue of patience or forbearance, but yet, you know, forbearance is no quittance.
Nich. I promise yee, maister Philip, you have spoken as true as steele. 386
Phil. Father, theres a proverbe well applied.
Nich. And it seemeth unto me, I, it seemes to me, that you, maister Phillip, mocke me: do you not know, qui mocat mocabitur? mocke age, and see how it will prosper. 390
Phil. Why, ye whoresen proverb-booke bound up in follio,
Have yee no other sence to answer me
But every worde a proverbe? no other English?
Well, Ile fulfill a proverb on thee straight.
Nich. What is it, sir? 395