Imatges de pÓgina
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Weath. Woman, he hath killd his Wife.
Luce. His Wife, dat is not good, dat is not seen.

Lanc. Hang not upon him, Huswife, if you do I'll lay you by him. Luce. Have me no, and or way

do
you

have him, He tell me dat he love me heartily.

Fran. Lead away my Maid to Prison ! why, Tom, will you suffer that?

Civ. No, by your leave, Father, she is no Vagrant:
She is my Wife's Chamber-maid, and as true as the
Skin between any Man's Brows here.

Lanc. Go to, you're both Fools:
Son Civet, of my Life this is a Plot,
Some stragling Counterfeit profer'd to you:
No doubt to rob you of your Plate and Jewels :
I'll have you led away to Prison, Trull.

Luce. I am no Trull, neither Outlandish Frow,
Nor he, nor I shall to the Prison go:
Know you me now? nay, never stand amaz'd.
Father, I know I have offended you.
And though that Duty wills me bend my

Knees
To you in Duty and Obedience;
Yet this ways do I turn, and to him yield
My Love, my Duty, and my

Humbleness.
Lanc. Bastard in Nature, kneel to such a Slave ?

Luce. O Master Flowerdale, if too much Grief
Have not stopt up the Organs of your Voice,
Then speak to her that is thy faithful Wife,
Or doth Contempt of me thus tie thy Tongue?
Turn not away, I am no Æthiope,
No wanton Cresid, nor a changing Hellen :
But rather one made wretched by thy Loss.
What turn'st thou still from me? O then
I guess thee wofull'st among hapless Men.

Flow. I am indeed, Wife, wonder among Wives !
Thy Chastity and Virtue hath infus'd
Another Soul in me, red with Defame,
For in my blushing Cheeks is seen my Shame.

Laxc. Out Hypocrite, I charge thee trust him not.

Luce. Not trust him? by the hopes of after Bliss, I know no Sorrow can be compar'd to his,

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Lance

Lanc. Well, since thou wert ordain'd to Beggary, Follow thy Fortune, I defie thee.

Oli. Ywood che were so well ydouffed as was ever white Cloth in tocking Mill, an che ha not made me weep.

Fath. If he hath any Grace he'll now repent.
Arth. It moves my Heart.
Weath. By my troth I must weep, I cannot chuse. .
Unc. None but a Beast would such a Maid misuse.

Flow. Content thy self, I hope to win his Favour,
And to redeem my Reputation loft :
And, Gentlemen, believe me, I beseech you,
I hope your Eyes shall behold such Change,
As thall deceive your Expe&ation.

Oli. I would che were split now, but che believe him.
Lanc. How, believe him!
Weath. By the Matkins, I do.
Lanc. What do you think that e'er he will have Grace?
Weath. By my Faith it will

go

hard. Oli. Well, che vor ye he is chang'd; and, Mr. Flowerdale, in hope you been fo, hold there's vorty pound toward your zetting up; what be not alhamed, vang it Man, vang it

, be a good Husband, loven to your Wife : And you mall not want for vorty more, I che vor thee.

Arth. My means are little, but if you'll follow me,
I will instru& you in my ableft Power:
But to your Wife I give this Diamond,
And prove true Diamond fair in all your Life.

Flow. Thanks, good Sir Arthur: Mr. Oliver,
You being my Enemy, and grown so kind,
Binds me in all endeavour to restore.
Oli

. What, restore me no restorings, Man,
I have vorty Pound more here, vang it:
· Zouth chil devie London elfe: What, do not think me

A Mezel or a Scoundrel, to throw away my Mony? che have an hundred Pound more to pace of any good Spotation : I hope your under and your Uncle will vollow my zamplas.

Uns. You have guest right of me, if he leave off this course of Life, he shall be mine Heir.

Lanc. But he shall never get a Groat of me;
A Cozener, a Deceiver, one that kill'd his painful

Father,

Father, honest Gentleman,
That pass’d the fearful danger of the Sea,
To get him living, and maintain him brave.

Weath. What hath he kill'd his Father?
Lanc. Ay, Sir, with conceit of his vile Courses.
Fath. Sir, you are misinform’d.
Lanc. Why, thou old Knavę, thou told'st me so thy self.

Fath. I wrong'd him then :
And toward my Mafter's Stock,
There's twenty Nobles for to make amends.

Flow. No, Kefter, I have troubled thee, and wrongd thee What thou in love gives, I in love restore.

[more,
Fran. Ha, ha, Sister, there you plaid bo-peep with
Tom, what shall I give her toward Houshold?
Sister Delia, shall I give her my Fan?

Del. You were best ask your Husband.
Fran. Shall I, Tom?

Civ. Ay, do, Frank, I'll buy thee a new one, with a longer handle.

Fran. A rufset one, Tom.
Civ. Ay with russet Feathers.

Fran. Here, Sister, there's my Fan toward Houshold, to keep you warm.

Luce. I thank you, Sister, . Weath. Why this is well

, and toward fair Luce's Stock, here's forty shillings : And forty good Shillings more, I'll give her, marry. Come Sir Lancelot, I must have you Friends.

Larc. Not I, all this is Counterfeit, He will consume it, were it a Million.'

Fath. Sir, what is your Daughter's Dower worth?

Lanc. Had she been married to an honest Man, It had been better than a thousand Pound.

Fath. Pay it him, and I'll give you my Bond,
To make her Jointure better worth than three.

Lanc. Your Bond, Sir! why, what are you?
Fath. One whose word in London, tho I say it,
Will pass there for as much as yours.
Lanc. Wert not thou late that Unthrift's Serving-man?

Fath.

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Fath. Look on me better, now my Scar is off: Ne'er muse Man, at this Metamorphofie.

Lanc. Master Flowerdale!

Flow. My Father! OI shame to look on him. Pardon, dear Father, the Follies that are paft.

Fath. Son, Son, I do, and joy at this thy Change, And applaud thy Fortune in this virtuous Maid, Whom Heav'n hath sent to thee to save thy Soul.

Luce. This addeth Joy to Joy, high Heav'n be prais'd. Weath. Mr. Flowerdale, welcome from Death, good Mr.

(Flowerdale. 'Twas said so here, 'twas said so here good Faith.

Farb. I caus'd that Rumour to be spread my self, Because I'd see the Humours of my Son, Which to relate the Circumstance is needless : And Sirrah, see you run no more into that same Disease: For he that's once cur'd of that Malady, Of Riot, Swearing, Drunkenness, and Pride, And falls again into the like distress, That Fever is deadly, doth 'eill Death endure: Such Men die mad, as of a Calenture.

Flow, Heav'n helping me, I'll hate the course as Hell. Unc. Say it, and do it, Cousin, all is well.

Lanc. Well, being in hope you'll prove an honeft Man, I take you to my favour. Brother Flowerdale, Welcome with all my Heart: I see your Care Hath brought these Ads to this Conclusion, And I am glad of it, come let's in and feast.

Oli. Nay zoft you a while, you promis'd to make
Sir Arthur and me amends, here is your wisest
Daughter, see which an's she'll have.

Lanc. A God's name, you have my good will, get hers.
Oli. How say you then, Damsel.
Del. I, Sir, am yours.

Oli, Why, then send for a Vicar, and chil have it
Dispatched in a trice, so chil.

Del. Pardon me, Sir, I mean I am yours,
In Love, in Duty, and Affe&ion.
But not to love as Wife, shall ne'er be said,
Delia was buried, married, but a Maid.

Arth. Do not condemn

your
self for

ever, Virtuous Fair, you were born to love.

Oli. Why you say true, Sir Arthur, she was ybore to it,
So well as her Mother ; but I pray you shew us
Some Zamples or Reasons why you will not marry?

Del. Not that I do condemn a married Life,
For 'tis no doubt a sanctimonious thing :
But for the care and crosses of a Wife,
The trouble in this world that Children bring,
My Vow's in Heav'n in Earth to live alone,
· Husbands, howsoever good, I will have none.

Oli. Why then, chil live a Batchelor too,
Che zet not a vig by a Wife, if a Wife zet not a vig
By me: Come, shall's go to Dinner?

Fath. To morrow I crave your Companies in Mark-lane :
To Night we'll frolick in Mr. Civet's House,
And to each Health drink down a full Carouse.

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