He commends a man out of design, that he may
be presented with him and have him for his pains, according to the mode.
A PRODIGAL
Is a pocket with a hole in the bottom. His purse has got a dysentery and
lost its retentive faculty. He delights, like a fat overgrown man, to
see himself fall away and grow less. He does not spend his money, but
void it, and, like those that have the stone, is in pain till he is rid
of it. He is very loose and incontinent of his coin, and lets it fly,
like Jupiter, in a shower. He is very hospitable, and keeps open pockets
for all comers. All his silver turns to mercury, and runs through him as
if he had taken it for the _miserere_ or fluxed himself. The history of
his life begins with keeping of whores, and ends with keeping of hogs;
and as he fed high at first, so he does at last, for acorns are very
high food. He swallows land and houses like an earthquake, eats a whole
dining-room at a meal, and devours his kitchen at a breakfast. He wears
the furniture of his house on his back, and a whole feather-bed in his
hat, drinks down his plate, and eats his dishes up. He is not clothed,
but hung. He'll fancy dancers cattle, and present his lady with messuage
and tenement. He sets his horses at inn and inn, and throws himself out
of his coach at come the caster. He should be a good husband, for he has
made more of his estate in one year than his ancestors did in twenty. He
dusts his estate as they do a stand of ale in the north.
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