Oli.

Cham assured thick be the place that the scoundrel appointed to meet me. If 'a come, zo: if 'a come not, zo. And che were avise he would make a coystrel on us^{9 note}

Sir Arth.
I have dog'd the De'nshire man into the field,
For fear of any harm that should befal him.
I had an inkling of that yesternight,
That Flowerdale and he should meet this morning.
Though, of my soul, Oliver fears him not,
Yet for I'd see fair play on either side,
Made me to come, to see their valours try'd.—
Good morrow to master Oliver.

Oli.
God and good morrow.

Sir Arth.
What, master Oliver, are you angry?

Oli.
What an it be, tyt and grieven you?

Sir Arth.
Not me at all, sir; but I imagine by
Your being here thus arm'd, you stay for some
That you should fight withal.

Oli.

Why an he do? che would not dezire you to take his part.

Sir Arth.
No, by my troth, I think you need it not;
For he you look for, I think, means not to come.

Oli.

No! an che were assure of that, ched veeze him in another place.

Daff.
O, sir Arthur, master Oliver, ah me!
Your love, and your's, and mine, sweet mistress Luce,
This morn is married to young Flowerdale.

Sir Arth.

Married to Flowerdale! 'tis impossible.

Oli.

Married, man? che hope thou dost but jest, to make a vlowten merriment of it^{1 note}

Daff.

O 'tis too true! here comes his uncle.

Flow. Jun.

Good morrow, sir Arthur; good morrow, master Oliver.

Oli.

God and good morn, master Flowerdale. I pray you tellen us, is your scoundrel kinsman married?

Flow. Jun.

Master Oliver, call him what you will, but he is married to sir Lancelot's daughter here.

Sir Arth.

Unto her?

Oli.

Ay, ha' the old vellow zerved me thick a trick? why man, he was a promise, chil chud 'a had her: is 'a zutch a vox? chil look to his water, che vore him.

Flow. Jun.
The musick plays; they are coming from the church.
Sheriff, do your office: fellows, stand stoutly to it. Enter Sir Lancelot Spurcock, M. Flowerdale, Weathercock, Civet, Luce, Frances, Flowerdale Senior, and Attendants.

Oli.

God give you joy, as the old zaid proverb is, and some zorrow among. You met us well, did you not?

Sir Lanc.

Nay, be not angry, sir; the fault is in me. I have done all the wrong; kept him from coming to the field to you, as I might, sir; for I am a justice, and sworn to keep the peace.

Weath.

Ay marry is he, sir, a very justice, and sworn to keep the peace: you must not disturb the weddings.

Sir Lanc.

Nay, never frown nor storm, sir; if you do, I'll have an order taken for you.

Oli.

Well, well, chil be quiet.

Weath.

Master Flowerdale, sir Lancelot; look you who here is? master Flowerdale.

Sir Lanc.

Master Flowerdale, welcome with all my heart.

M. Flow.

Uncle, this is she i'faith.—Master Undersheriff, arrest me? At whose suit?—Draw, Kit.

Flow. Jun.

At my suit, sir.

Sir Lanc.

Why, what's the matter, master Flowerdale?

Flow. Jun.

This is the matter, sir. This unthrift here hath cozen'd you, and hath had of me in several sums three thousand pound.

M. Flow.

Why, uncle, uncle.

Flow. Jun.

Cousin, cousin, you have uncled me; and if you be not staid, you'll prove a cozener^{2 note}

Sir Lanc.
Why, sir, suppose he be to you in debt
Ten thousand pound, his state to me appears
To be at least three thousand by the year.

Flow. Jun.
O, sir, I was too late inform'd of that plot;
How that he went about to cozen you,
And form'd a Will, and sent it
To your good friend there, master Weathercock,
In which was nothing true, but brags and lies.

Sir Lanc.
Ha! hath he not such lordships, lands, and ships?

Flow. Jun.
Not worth a groat, not worth a half-penny he.

Sir Lanc.
I pray tell us true; be plain, young Flowerdale.

M. Flow.

My uncle here's mad, and dispos'd to do me wrong; but here's my man, an honest fellow by the lord, and of good credit, knows all is true.

Flow. Sen.
Not I, sir; I am too old to lie. I rather know
You forg'd a Will, where every line you writ,
You studied where to quote your lands might lie^{3 note}.

Weath.

And I pr'ythee where be they, honest friend?

Flow. Sen.
I'faith no where, sir, for he hath none at all.

Weath.
Benedicite! We are o'er-reach'd, I believe.

Sir Lanc.
I am cozen'd, and my hopefullest child undone.

M. Flow.
You are not cozen'd, nor is she undone.
They slander me; by this light, they slander me.
Look you, my uncle here's an usurer,
And would undo me; but I'll stand in law;
Do you but bail me, you shall do no more:
You brother Civet, and master Weathercock, do but bail me,
And let me have my marriage-money paid me,
And we'll ride down, and your own eyes shall see
How my poor tenants there will welcome me.
You shall but bail me, you shall do no more:—
And you, you greedy gnat^{4 note}

Flow. Jun.
Ay, sir, I'll ask no better bail.

Sir Lanc.
No, sir, you shall not take my bail, nor his,
Nor my son Civet's: I'll not be cheated, I.
Shrieve, take your prisoner; I'll not deal with him.
Let his uncle make false dice with his false bones;
I will not have to do with him: mock'd, gull'd, and wrong'd!
Come, girl, though it be late, it falls out well;
Thou shalt not live with him in beggar's hell.

Luce.
He is my husband, and high heaven doth know

With what unwillingness I went to church;
But you enforc'd me, you compell'd me to it.
The holy church-man pronounc'd these words but now,
I must not leave my husband in distress:
Now I must comfort him, not go with you.

Sir Lanc.
Comfort a cozener! on my curse forsake him.

Luce.
This day you caus'd me on your curse to take him.
Do not, I pray, my grieved soul oppress:
God knows my heart doth bleed at his distress.

Sir Lanc.
O master Weathercock,
I must confess I forc'd her to this match,
Led with opinion his false Will was true.

Weath.
Ah, he hath o'er-reach'd me too.

Sir Lanc.
She might have liv'd
Like Delia, in a happy virgin's state.

Del.
Father, be patient: sorrow comes too late.

Sir Lanc.
And on her knees she begg'd and did entreat,
If she must needs taste a sad marriage life,
She crav'd to be sir Arthur Greenshield's wife.

Sir Arth.
You have done her and me the greater wrong.

Sir Lanc.
O, take her yet.

Sir Arth.
Not I.

Sir Lanc.
Or, master Oliver, accept my child,
And half my wealth is yours.

Oli.
No, sir, chil break no laws.

Luce.
Never fear, she will not trouble you.

Del.
Yet, sister, in this passion
Do not run headlong to confusion:
You may affect him, though not follow him.

Fran.
Do, sister; hang him, let him go.

Weath.
Do 'faith, mistress Luce; leave him.

Luce.
You are three gross fools; pray let me alone:
I swear, I'll live with him in all his moan.

Oli.
But an he have his legs at liberty,
Cham aveard he will never live with you.

Sir Arth.

Ay, but he is now in huckster's handling for running away^{5 note}.

Sir Lanc.
Huswife, you hear how you and I are wrong'd,
And if you will redress it yet, you may:
But if you stand on terms to follow him,
Never come near my sight, nor look on me;
Call me not father, look not for a groat;
For all thy portion I will this day give
Unto thy sister Frances.

Fran.

How say you to that, Tom? [to Civet] I shall have a good deal: besides, I'll be a good wife; and a good wife is a good thing I can tell.

Civ.

Peace, Franke. I would be sorry to see thy sister cast away, as I am a gentleman.

Sir Lanc.

What, are you yet resolv'd?

Luce.

Yes, I am resolv'd.

Sir Lanc.
Come then away; or now, or never come.

Luce.
This way I turn; go you unto your feast;
And I to weep, that am with grief opprest.

Sir Lanc.
For ever fly my sight: Come, gentlemen,
Let's in; I'll help you to far better wives than her.
Delia, upon my blessing talk not to her.
Base baggage, in such haste to beggary!

Flow. Jun.

Sheriff, take your prisoner to your charge.

M. Flow.

Uncle, by God you have us'd me very hardly, by my troth, upon my wedding-day.

Luce.
O master Flowerdale, but hear me speak. [To Flowerdale Junior.
Stay but a little while, good master sheriff;
If not for him, for my sake pity him.
Good sir, stop not your ears at my complaint;
My voice grows weak, for women's words are faint.

M. Flow.
Look you, uncle, she kneels to you.

Flow. Jun.
Fair maid, for you, I love you with my heart,
And grieve, sweet soul, thy fortune is so bad,
That thou should'st match with such a graceless youth.
Go to thy father, think not upon him,
Whom hell hath mark'd to be the son of shame.

Luce.
Impute his wildness, sir, unto his youth,
And think that now's the time he doth repent.
Alas, what good or gain can you receive,
To imprison him that nothing hath to pay?
And where nought is, the king doth lose his due:
O pity him as God shall pity you.

Flow. Jun.
Lady, I know his humours all too well;
And nothing in the world can do him good,
But misery itself to chain him with.

Luce.
Say that your debt were paid, then is he free?

Flow. Jun.
Ay, virgin; that being answer'd, I have done.
But to him that is all as impossible,
As I to scale the high pyramides.
Sheriff, take your prisoner: maiden, fare thee well.

Luce.
O go not yet, good master Flowerdale:
Take my word for the debt, my word, my bond.

M. Flow.
Ay, by God, uncle, and my bond too.

Luce.
Alas, I ne'er ought nothing but I paid it;
And I can work: alas, he can do nothing.
I have some friends perhaps will pity me:
His chiefest friends do seek his misery.
All that I can, or beg, get, or receive,

Shall be for you. O do not turn away:
Methinks, within, a face so reverend,
So well experienc'd in this tottering world,
Should have some feeling^{6 note}

Flow. Jun.
Fair maid, stand up: not in regard of him,
But in pity of thy hapless choice, I
Do release him. Master sheriff, I thank you;
And officers, there is for you to drink.
Here, maid, take this money; there is a hundred angels:
And, for I will be sure he shall not have it,
Here, Kester, take it you, and use it sparingly;
But let not her have any want at all.
Dry your eyes, niece; do not too much lament
For him whose life hath been in riot spent:
If well he useth thee, he gets him friends,
If ill, a shameful end on him depends. [Exit Flowerdale Junior.

M. Flow.

A plague go with you for an old fornicator! Come, Kit, the money; come, honest Kit.

Flow. Sen.

Nay, by my faith, sir, you shall pardon me.

M. Flow.

And why, sir, pardon you? Give me the money, you old rascal, or I will make you.

Luce.

Pray hold your hands; give it him, honest friend.

Flow. Sen.

If you be so content, with all my heart.

M. Flow.

Content, sir? 'sblood she shall be content whether she will or no. A rattle-baby come to follow me! Go, get you gone to the greasy chuff your father: bring me your dowry, or never look on me.

Flow. Sen.

Sir, she hath forsook her father, and all her friends for you.

M. Flow.

Hang thee, her friends and father, all together!

Flow. Sen.
Yet part with something to provide her lodging.

M. Flow.

Yes, I mean to part with her and you; but if I part with one angel, hang me at a post. I'll rather throw them at a cast of dice, as I have done a thousand of their fellows.

Flow. Sen.
Nay then I will be plain: degenerate boy,
Thou hadst a father would have been asham'd—

M. Flow.
My father was an ass, an old ass.

Flow. Sen.
Thy father? thou proud licentious villain:
What are you at your foils? I'll foil with you.

Luce.
Good sir, forbear him.

Flow. Sen.
Did not this whining woman hang on me,
I'd teach thee what it was to abuse thy father.
Go hang, beg, starve, dice, game; that when all's gone,
Thou may'st after despair and hang thyself.

Luce.
O, do not curse him.

Flow. Sen.
I do not curse him; and to pray for him were vain:
It grieves me that he bears his father's name.

M. Flow.

Well, you old rascal, I shall meet with you,

you* ^note. Sirrah, get you gone; I will not strip the livery over your ears, because you paid for it: but do not use my name, sirrah, do you hear? Look you do not use my name, you were best.

Flow. Sen.

Pay me the twenty pound then that I lent you, or give me security when I may have it.

M. Flow.
I'll pay thee not a penny,
And for security I'll give thee none.
Minckins^{7 note}, look you do not follow me; look you do not:
If you do, beggar, I shall slit your nose.

Luce.
Alas, what shall I do?

M. Flow.
Why turn whore: that's a good trade;
And so perhaps I'll see thee now and then. [Exit M. Flowerdale.

Luce.
Alas the day that ever I was born.

Flow. Sen.
Sweet mistress, do not weep; I'll stick to you.

Luce.
Alas, my friend, I know not what to do.
My father and my friends, they have despis'd me;
And I a wretched maid, thus cast away,
Know neither where to go, nor what to say.

Flow. Sen.
It grieves me at the soul, to see her tears
Thus stain the crimson roses of her cheeks.
Lady, take comfort; do not mourn in vain.
I have a little living in this town,
The which I think comes to a hundred pound;
All that and more shall be at your dispose.
I'll straight go help you to some strange disguise,
And place you in a service in this town,
Where you shall know all, yet yourself unknown.
Come, grieve no more, where no help can be had;
Weep not for him, that is more worse than bad* ^note.

Luce.
I thank you, sir. [Exeunt.

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