Your father was a man of slender means.
You do not blush, I see. That's right! Why should you?
What merit to be dropped on fortune's hill?
The honour is to mount it. You'd have done it;
For you were trained to knowledge, industry,
Frugality, and honesty,--the sinews
That surest help the climber to the top,
And keep him there. I have a clerk, Sir Thomas,
Once served your father; there's the riddle for you.
Humph! I may thank you for my life to-day.

Clif. I pray you say not so.

Wal. But I will say so!
Because I think so, know so, feel so, sir!
Your fortune, I have heard, I think, is ample!
And doubtless you live up to't?

Clif. 'Twas my rule,
And is so still, to keep my outlay, sir,
A span within my means.

Wal. A prudent rule!
The turf is a seductive pastime!

Clif. Yes.

Wal. You keep a racing stud? You bet?

Clif. No, neither.