_Sir Gr._ Pox, we must not shame our selves now, Sir, I'll give as much as that Gentleman, though I never be Soldier or Scholar while I live; here friends, there's a piece, that if he were divided, would make a pair of Angels for me too, in the love I bear to the Sword and the Tongues. _Old K._ My largess shall be equal too, and much good do you, this bounty is a little abatement of my wit, though I feel that. _Ruin._ May soldiers ever defend such charities. _Pris._ And Scholars pray for their increase. _Old K._ Fare you well, Sir, these fellows may pray for you, you have made the Scholars Commons exceed to day, and a word with you, Sir, you said you liv'd by your wits, if you use this bounty, you'll begger your wits, believe it. _Witty._ Oh Sir, I hope to encrease 'em by it, this seed never wants his harvest, fare you well, Sir. [_Exit._ _Sir Gr._ I think a man were as good meet with a reasonable Thief, as an unreasonable Begger sometimes, I could find in my heart to beg half mine back agen, can you change my piece my friends? _Pris. Tempora mutantur, & nos mutamur in illis._ _Sir Gr._ My Gold is turn'd into _Latine_. _Enter_ Witty-pate. Look you good fellows, here's one round Shilling more that lay conceal'd. _Old K._ Sir, away, we shall be drawn farther into damage else. _Sir Gr._ A pox of the Fool, he live by his wits? if his wits leave him any money, but what he begs or steals very shortly, I'll be hang'd for him. [_Exeunt the two Knights._ _Ruin._ This breakfast parcel was well fetcht off i'faith. _Witty._ Tush, a by-blow for mirth, we must have better purchase, we want a fourth for another project that I have ripen'd. _Ruin._ My wife she shares, and can deserve it. _Witty._ She can change her shape, and be masculine. _Ruin._ 'Tis one of the free'st conditions, she fears not the crack of a Pistol, she dares say Stand to a Grazier. _Pris. Probatum fuit, profecto Domine._ _Witty._ Good, then you Sir _Bacchus_, _Apollo_ shall be dispatcht with her share, and some contents to meet us to morrow (at a certain place and time appointed) in the Masculine Gender, my Father has a Nephew, and I an own Cosin coming up from the University, whom he loves most indulgently, easie Master _Credulous Oldcraft_, (for you know what your meer Academique is) your Carrier never misses his hour, he must not be rob'd (because he has but little to lose) but he must joyn with us in a devise that I have, that shall rob my Father of a hundred pieces, and thank me to be rid on't, for there's the ambition of my wit, to live upon his profest wit, that has turn'd me out to live by my wits. _Pris. Cum hirundinis alis tibi regratulor._