Witty.

      Sir, I'm no boy, I'm deep in one and twenty,

      The second years approaching.

      Old K. A fine time

      For a youth to live by his wits then I should think,

      If e'er he mean to make account of any.

      Witty. Wits, Sir?

      Old K. I Wits Sir, if it be so strange to thee,

      I'm sorry I spent that time to get a Fool,

      I might have imploy'd my pains a great deal better;

      Thou knowst all that I have, I ha' got by my wits,

      And yet to see how urgent thou art too;

      It grieves me thou art so degenerate

      To trouble me for means, I never offer'd it

      My Parents from a School-boy, past nineteen once,

      See what these times are grown to, before twenty

      I rush'd into the world, which is indeed

      Much like the Art of swiming, he that will attain to't

      Must fall plump, and duck himself at first,

      And that will make him hardy and advent'rous,

      And not stand putting in one foot, and shiver,

      And then draw t'other after, like a quake-buttock;

      Well he may make a padler i'th' world,

      From hand to mouth, but never a brave Swimmer,

      Born up by th' chin, as I bore up my self,

      With my strong industry that never fail'd me;

      For he that lies born up with Patrimonies,

      Looks like a long great Ass that swims with bladders,

      Come but one prick of adverse fortune to him

      He sinks, because he never try'd to swim

      When Wit plaies with the billows that choak'd him.

      Witty. Why is it not a fashion for a Father, Sir,

      Out of his yearly thousands to allow

      His only Son, a competent brace of hundreds;

      Or such a toy?

      Old K. Yes, if he mean to spoil him,

      Or mar his wits he may, but never I,

      This is my humor, Sir, which you'll find constant;

      I love Wit so well, because I liv'd by't,

      That I'll give no man power out of my means to hurt it,

      And that's a kind of gratitude to my raiser,

      Which great ones oft forget; I admire much

      This Ages dulness, when I scarce writ man,

      The first degree that e'er I took in thriving,

      I lay intelligencer close for wenching,

      Could give this Lord or Knight a true Certificate

      Of all the Maiden-heads extant, how many lay

      'Mongst Chambermaids, how many 'mongst Exchange [Wenches,]

      Though never many there I must confess

      They have a trick to utter Ware so fast;

      I knew which Lady had a mind to fall,

      Which Gentlewoman new divorc'd, which Tradesman breaking,

      The price of every sinner to a hair,

      And where to raise each price; which were the Tearmers,

      That would give Velvet Petticoats, Tissue Gowns,

      Which Pieces, Angels, Suppers, and Half Crowns;

      I knew how to match, and make my market.

      Could give intelligence where the Pox lay leidger,

      And then to see the Letchers shift a point,

      'Twas sport and profit too; how they would shun

      Their ador'd Mistriss