_Sec._ My privy guest, lusty Quicksilver, has drunk too deep of the bride-bowl; but with a little sleep, he is much recovered; and, I think, is making himself ready to be drunk in a gallanter likeness. My house is as 'twere the cave where the young outlaw hoards the stolen vails of his occupation; and here, when he will revel it in his prodigal similitude, he retires to his trunks, and (I may say softly) his punks; he dares trust me with the keeping of both; for I am Security itself; my name is Security, the famous usurer. [_Exit._ SCENE III. _Room in_ SECURITY'S _house_. _Enter_ QUICKSILVER _in his prentice's coat and cap, his gallant breeches and stockings, gartering himself_, SECURITY _following_. _Qu._ Come, old Security, thou father of destruction! th' indented sheepskin is burned wherein I was wrapt; and I am now loose, to get more children of perdition into thy usurous bonds. Thou feed'st my lechery, and I thy covetousness; thou art pander to me for my wench, and I to thee for thy cozenages. Ka me, ka thee,[39] runs through court and country. _Sec._ Well said, my subtle Quicksilver! These ka's ope the doors to all this world's felicity: the dullest forehead sees it. Let not master courtier think he carries all the knavery on his shoulders: I have known poor Hob, in the country, that has worn hob-nails on's hoes, have as much villainy in's head as he that wears gold buttons in's cap. 14 _Qu._ Why, man, 'tis the London highway to thrift; if virtue be used, 'tis but as a scape to the net of villainy. They that use it simply, thrive simply, I warrant. Weight and fashion makes goldsmiths cuckolds. _Enter_ SINDEFY, _with_ QUICKSILVER'S _doublet, cloak, rapier, and dagger_. _Si._ Here, sir, put off the other half of your prenticeship. _Qu._ Well said, sweet Sin! Bring forth my bravery. Now let my trunks shoot[40] forth their silks conceal'd. 22 I now am free, and now will justify My trunks and punks. Avaunt, dull flatcap, then! _Via_ the curtain that shadow'd Borgia![41] There lie, thou husk of my envassail'd state, I, Sampson, now have burst the Philistines' bands, And in thy lap, my lovely Dalila, I'll lie, and snore out my enfranchised state. _When_[42] _Sampson was a tall young man, 30 His power and strength increased than; He sold no more nor cup nor can; But did them all despise. Old Touchstone, now write to thy friends For one to sell thy base gold-ends; Quicksilver now no more attends Thee, Touchstone._ But, dad, hast thou seen my running gelding dressed to-day?