_Wild._ One would think so, but I cannot help it. Gad, I think the reason is, because there's something more of sin in thy colour than in ours. I know not what's the matter, but a turkey-cock is not more provoked at red, than I bristle at the sight of black. Come, be kinder to me. Young, and slip an opportunity? 'Tis an evening lost out of your life. _Jac._ These fine things you have said over a thousand times; your cold compliment's the cold pye of love, which you serve up to every guest whom you invite. _Wild._ Come; because thou art very moving, here's part of the gold, which thou brought'st to corrupt me for thy lady: Truth is, I had promised a sum to a Spanish lady; but thy eyes have allured it from me. _Jac._ You'll repent it to-morrow. _Wild._ Let to-morrow starve, or provide for himself, as to-night has done: To-morrow is a cheat in love, and I will not trust it. _Jac._ Ay, but heaven, that sees all things---- _Wild._ Heaven, that sees all things, will say nothing: That is all eyes, and no tongue; _Et la lune, et les estoiles_,--you know the song. _Jac._ A poor slave, as I am---- _Wild._ It has been always my humour to love downward. I love to stoop to my prey, and to have it in my power to souse at, when I please. When a man comes to a great lady, he is fain to approach her with fear and reverence; methinks there's something of godliness in't. _Jac._ Yet I cannot believe, but the meanness of my habit must needs scandalize you. _Wild._ I tell thee, my friend, and so forth, that I exceedingly honour coarse linen; 'tis as proper sometimes in an under garment, as a coarse towel is to rub and scrub me. _Jac._ Now I am altogether of the other side; I can love no where but above me: Methinks the rattling of a coach and six sounds more eloquently than the best harangue a wit could make me. _Wild._ Do you make no more esteem of a wit then? _Jac._ His commendations serve only to make others have a mind to me; he does but say grace to me like a chaplain, and, like him, is the last that shall fall on. He ought to get no more by it, than a poor silk-weaver does by the ribband which he works, to make a gallant fine. _Wild._ Then what is a gentleman to hope from you? _Jac._ To be admitted to pass my time with, while a better comes: To be the lowest step in my staircase, for a knight to mount upon him, and a lord upon him, and a marquis upon him, and a duke upon him, till I get as high as I can climb.