MR BAR. Peace, Nick, I'll see he shall use thee well; Go to, peace, sirrah: here, Nick, take this letter, Carry it to him to whom it is directed. NICH. To whom is it? MR BAR. Why, read it: canst thou read? NICH. Forsooth, though none of the best, yet meanly. MR BAR. Why, dost thou not use it? NICH. Forsooth, as use makes perfectness, so seldom seen is soon forgotten. MR BAR. Well-said: but go; it is to Master Goursey. PHIL. Now, sir, what proverb have ye to deliver a letter? NICH. What need you to care? who speaks to you? you may speak when ye are spoken to, and keep your wind to cool your pottage. Well, well, you are my master's son, and you look for his land; but they that hope for dead men's shoes may hap go barefoot: take heed, as soon goes the young sheep to the pot as the old. I pray God save my master's life, for seldom comes the better! PHIL. O, he hath given it me! Farewell, Proverbs. NICH. Farewell, frost.[272] PHIL. Shall I fling an old shoe after ye? NICH. No; you should say, God send fair weather after me! PHIL. I mean for good luck. NICH. A good luck on ye! [_Exit_. MR BAR. Alas, poor fool! he uses all his wit. Philip, in faith[273] this mirth hath cheered thought, And cosen'd it of his right play of passion. Go after Nick, and, when thou think'st he's there, Go in and urge to that which I have writ: I'll in these meadows make a circling walk, And in my meditation conjure so, As that same[274] fiend of thought, self-eating anger, Shall by my spells of reason[275] vanish quite: Away, and let me hear from thee to-night. PHIL. To-night! yes, that you shall: but hark ye, father; Look that you my sister waking keep, For Frank, I swear, shall kiss her, ere I sleep. [_Exeunt_. _Enter_ FRANK _and_ BOY. FRAN. I am very dry with walking o'er the green.-- Butler, some beer! Sirrah, call the butler. BOY. Nay, faith, sir, we must have some smith to give the butler a drench, or cut him in the forehead, for he hath got a horse's disease, namely the staggers; to-night he's a good huswife, he reels all that he wrought to-day; and he were good now to play at dice, for he casts[276] excellent well. FRAN. How mean'st thou? is he drunk? BOY. I cannot tell; but I am sure he hath more liquor in him than a whole dicker of hides; he's soak'd throughly, i'faith. FRAN. Well, go and call him; bid him bring me drink. BOY. I will, sir. [_Exit_.