Jer.  Sir,  you're  a  gentleman,  and  probably  understand
this  fine  feeding ;  but  if  you  please,  I  had  rather  be  at
board-wages.  Does  your  Epictetus,  or  your  Seneca  here,
or  any  of  these  poor  rich  rogues,  teach  you  how  to  pay
your  debts  without  money  ?  Will  they  shut  up  the  mouths
of  your  creditors  ?  Will  Plato  be  bail  for  you  ?  or  Dio-
genes, because  he  understands  confinement,  and  lived  in
a  tub,  go  to  prison  for  you  ?  'Slife,  sir,  what  do  you
mean  ?  to  mew  yourself  up  here  with  three  or  four  musty
books,  in  commendation  of  starving  and  poverty  ?

Val.  Why,  sirrah,  I  have  no  money,  you  know  it ;  and
therefore  resolve  to  rail  at  all  that  have ;  and  in  that  I  but
follow  the  examples  of  the  wisest  and  wittiest  men  in  all
ages ;  these  poets  and  philosophers  whom  you  naturally
hate,  for  just  such  another  reason,  because  they  abound
in  sense,  and  you  are  a  fool.
Jer.  Ay,  sir,  I  am  a  fool,  I  know  it ;  and  yet,  Heaven
help  me,  I'm  poor  enough  to  be  a  wit ; — but  I  was  always
a  fool  when  I  told  you  what  your  expenses  would  bring
you  to  ;  your  coaches  and  your  liveries,  your  treats  and
your  balls  ;  your  being  in  love  with  a  lady  that  did  not
care  a  farthing  for  you  in  your  prosperity  ;  and  keeping
company  with  wits  that  cared  for  nothing  but  your  pro-
sperity, and  now,  when  you  are  poor,  hate  you  as  much
as  they  do  one  another.
