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Fath. So Brother, by this means shall we perceive What Sir Lancelot in this pinch will do : And how his Wife doth stand affected to him, Her Love will then be tried to the uttermoft : And all the rest of them. Brother, what I will do, Shall harm him much, and much avail him too. [Exeunt.

Oli. Cham ashured thick be the Place," that the scoundrel Appointed to meet me, if a come, żo : If a come not, zo. And che war avise, he would make a Coystrel an us, Ched vese him, and che vang him in hand, che would Hoyst him, and give it him too and again, zo chud: Who a been there, Sir Arthur? chil stay aside.

Arth. I have dog’d the Devonshire Man into the Field,
For fear of any harm that should befal him :
I had an inckling of that yesternight,
That Flower dale 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 tryd-
Good morrow to Master Oliver.

Oli. God and good Morrow.
Arth. What, Master Oliver, are you angry?
Oli. What an it bę, tyt an grieven you

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 and he do, che would not dezire you to take

his part.

need it not,

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

Oli. No, and che war alhure of that, ched avese him in another place.

Enter Daffidil.
Daff. O, Sir Arthur, Master Oliver, ay me,
Your

Love, and yours, and mine, sweet Mistress Luce
This Morning is married to young Flowerdale.

Arth. Married to Flowerdale ! 'tis impossible.

Oli. Married, Man? che hope thou doft but jest: To make an a volowten merriment of it.

Daff. O'tis too true, here comes his Uncle. VOL. VI.

T

Enter

Enter young Flowerdale's Uncle, with Sheriff and Officers.

Unc. Good morrow, Sir Arthur, good morrow, Mafter Oliver.

Oli. God and good Morn, Mr. Flowerdale. I pray tellen us,

is your scoundrel Kinsman married ? Arth. Mr. Oliver, call him what you will, but he is married To Sir Lancelot's Daughter here.

Unc. Sir Arthur, 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 zitch a vox, chil look to his Water che vor him.

Onc. The Musick plays; they are coming from the Church. Sheriff, do your Office: Fellows, ftand #outly to it.

Enter all to the Wedding. Oli. God give you Joy, as the old zaid Proverb is, and fome Zorrow among. You met us well, did you not?

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.

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. Mr. Flowerdale, Sir Lancelot, look you, who here is? Mr. Flowerdale,

Lanc. Mr. Flowerdale, welcome with all my Heart.
Flow. Uncle, this is she j'faith: Mafter Under-Sheriff

, Arrest me? At whose Suit ? Draw, Kit.

Unc. At my Suit, Sir.
Lanc. Why, what's the Matter, Mr. Flowerdale?

Unc. This is the matter, Sir, this Unthrift here
Hath cozend you, and hath had of me
In several Sums three thoufand Pound.

Flow. Why, Uncle, Uncle.

Unc. Coulin, Cousin, you have Uncled me,
And if you be not staid, you'll prove
A cozener unto all that know you.

Lanc.

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.

Unc. (), 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, Malter Weathercock, in which was
Nothing true, but brags and lies.

Lanc. Ha, hath he not fuch Lordships,
Lands, and Ships?
Unc. Not worth a Groat, not worth a Half-penny he.
Lanc. I pray tell us true, be plain, young Flowerdale.

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.

Fath. 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 lye.

Weath. And I prithee where be thy honest Friends?
Fath. l'faith no where, Sir, for he hath none at all.
Weath. Benedicity, we are o'er-reach'd, I believe.
Lanc. I am cozen'd, and my hopefull ft Child undone.

Flow. You are not cozen'd, nor is the undone,
They Nander 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 Thall do no
You Brother Civet, and Master Weathercock, do but [more:
Bail me, and let me have my Marriage Mony
Paid me, and we'll ride down,
And there your own Eyes shall see
How my poor Tepants there will welcome me.
You shall but bail me, you shall do no more,
And
you,

greedy Gnat, their bail will serve. Unc. Ay, Sir, I'll ask no better bail. Lanc. No, Sir, you shall not take my bail, nor his, Nor my Son Civet's, I'll not be cheated, I. Sheriff, take your Prisoner, I'll not deal with him :Let's Uncle make false Dice with his false Bones, I will not have to do with him: Mock’d, gulld, and wrong'd!

Comez

T2

Do not,

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 Heav'n doth know,
With what unwillingness I went to Church,
But you enforc'd me, you compellid 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. Lanc. Comfort a Cozener? On my curse forsake him? Luce. This day you caus'd me on your Curse to take him:

I

pray, my grieved Soul oppress;
God knows my Heart doth bleed at his distress.

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 over-reach'd me too.

Lanc. She might have liv'd like Delia, in a happy Virgin's state.

Del. Father, be patient, Sorrow comes too late.

Lant. And on her Knees she begg'd and did intreat,
If she must needs taste a sad Marriage Life,
She crav'd to be Sir Arthur. Greenfield's Wife.

Arth. You have done her and me the greater wrong.
Lanc. O take her yet.
Arth. Not I.

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 affe& him, tho' not follow him.

Frank. Do, Sister, hang him, let him go.
Weath. Do faith, Mistress Luce, leave him.

Luce. You are three gross Fools, let me alone,
I swear, PH live with him in all his moan.

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

Arth. Ay, but he is now in Hucksters handling for running away.

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 the Portion I will this Day give
Unto thy Sister Frances.

Fran. How say you to that, Tom?
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, Frank, I would be sorry to see thy Sister cast away, as I am a Gentleman.

Lanc. What, are you yet resolv'd?
Luce. Yes, I am refoly'd,
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.

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 hafte to Beggary?

Unc. Sheriff, take your Prisoner to your charge.
Flow. Uncle, be-gad you have us'd me very hardly,
By my troth, upon my Wedding-day.
[Exeunt all bue Luce, young Flowerdale, his Father,

Uncle, Sheriff and Officers.
Luce. O Master Flowerdale, but hear me speak,
Stay but a little while, good Master Sheriff,
If not for him, for my fake pity him :
Good Sir, stop not your Ears at my Complaint,
My Voice grows weak, for Womens words are faint.
Flow. Look you, she kneels to you.

Unc. 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,

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