Imatges de pàgina

Lanc. Why, Sir, fuppofe he be to you in debt Ten thousand Pound, his State to me appears, To be at leaft three thoufand by the Year.

Unc. 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 fent it to your good
Friend there, Mafter 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 difpos'd to do me wrong,

But here's my Man an honeft 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 ftudied where to quote your Lands might lye.
Weath. And I prithee where be thy honeft Friends?
Fath. I'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 flander me, by this Light, they flander me:
Look you, my Uncle here's an Ufurer, and would undo me,
But I'll ftand in Law, do you but bail me, you shall do no
You Brother Civet, and Mafter 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 fhall fee
How my poor Tenants there will welcome me.
You fhall but bail me, you fhall do no more,
And you, greedy Gnat, their bail will ferve.
Unc. Ay, Sir, I'll ask no better bail.

Lanc. No, Sir, you shall not take my bail, nor his,
Nor my Son Civer's, I'll not be cheated, I.
Sheriff, take your Prifoner, I'll not deal with him :
Let's Uncle make falfe Dice with his falfe Bones,

I will not have to do with him: Mock'd, gull'd, and wrong'd!

T 2


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 compell'd me to it:
The holy Church-man pronounc'd thefe Words but now,
I must not leave my Husband in diftrefs:
with you.
Now I must comfort him, not go

Lanc. Comfort a Cozener? On my curfe forfake him? Luce. This day you caus'd me on your Curfe to take him: Do not, I pray, my grieved Soul oppress;

God knows my Heart doth bleed at his diftrefs.
Lanc. O Mafter Weathercock,

I must confefs I forc'd her to this match.

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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 ftate.

Del. Father, be patient, Sorrow comes too late.
Lanc. And on her Knees fhe begg'd and did intreat,
If the must needs taste a fad Marriage Life,
She crav'd to be Sir Arthur Green field's Wife.

Arth. You have done her and me the greater wrong.
Lanc. O take her yet.

Arth. Not I.

Lanc. Or, Mafter Oliver, accept my Child, and half my Wealth is yours.

Oli. No, Sir, chil break no Laws.

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Luce. Never fear, the will not trouble you.

Del. Yet, Sifter, in this Paffion do not run headlong to Confufion. You may affect him, tho' not follow him.

Frank. Do, Sifter, hang him, let him go. Weath. Do faith, Mistress Luce, leave him. Luce. You are three grofs Fools, let me alone, I fwear, 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.

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


Lanc. Hufwife, you hear how you and I are wrong'd, And if you will redrefs it yet you may: But if you ftand on terms to follow him, Never come near my fight, nor look on me, Call me not Father, look not for a Groat, For all the Portion I will this Day give Unto thy Sifter Frances.

Fran. How fay you to that, Tom? I shall have a good deal,

Befides, I'll be a good Wife; and a good Wife

Is a good thing I can tell.

Civ. Peace, Frank, I would be forry to fee thy Sifter caft away, as I am a Gentleman.

Lane. What, are you yet refolv'd?

Luce. Yes, I am refolv'd.

Lanc. Come then away, or now, or never come. Luce. This way I turn, go you unto your Feaft, And I to weep, that am with Grief oppreft.

Lanc. For ever fly my fight: Come, Gentlemen,
Let's in, I'll help you to far better Wives than her.
Delia, upon my Bleffing talk not to her,
Bafe Baggage, in fuch hafte to Beggary?

Unc. Sheriff, take your Prifoner to your charge.
Flow. Uncle, be-gad you have us'd me very hardly,
By my troth, upon my Wedding-day.

[Exeunt all but Luce, young Flowerdale, his Father, Uncle, Sheriff and Officers.

Luce. O Mafter Flowerdale, but hear me fpeak,
Stay but a little while, good Mafter Sheriff,
If not for him, for my fake pity him:
Good Sir, ftop not your Ears at my Complaint,
My Voice grows weak, for Womens words are faint.
Flow. Look you, fhe kneels to you.

Unc. Fair Maid, for you, I love you with my Heart, And grieve, fweet Soul, thy Fortune is so bad,

That thou fhould'ft match with fuch 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 lofe his due;
O pity him as God fhall pity you.

Unc. Lady, I know his Humours all too well,
And nothing in the World can do him good,
But mifery it felf to chain him with.

Luce. Say that your Debts were paid, then is he free? Unc. Ay, Virgin, that being answer'd, I have done. But to him that is all as impoffible, As I to scale the high Pyramids. Sheriff, take your Prifoner; Maiden, fare thee well, Luce. O go not yet, good Mafter Flowerdale: Take my word for the Debt, my Word, my Bond. Flow. Ay, by Gad, Uncle, and my Bond toc. Luce. Alas, Íjne'er ought nothing but I paid it ; And I can work, alas, he can do nothing: I have fome Friends perhaps will pity me, His chiefeft Friends do feek his Mifery. All that I can, or beg, get, or receive, Shall be for you: O do not turn away: Methinks within a Face fo reverend, So well experienc'd in this tottering World, Should have fome feeling of a Maiden's Grief: For my fake, his Father's and your Brother's fake, Ay, for your Soul's fake that doth hope for Joy, Pity my state, do not two Souls destroy.

Unc. Fair Maid, ftand up; not in regard of him,
But in pity of thy hapless Choice,

I do releafe him: Mafter Sheriff, I thank you:
And Officers, there is for you to drink.
Here, Maid, take this Mony, there is a hundred Angels;
And, for I will be fure he fhall not have it,
Here, Kefter, take it you, and use it sparingly,
But let not her have any want at all.
Dry your Eyes, Neice, do not too much lament
For him, whofe Life hath been in riot spent:
If well he useth thee, he gets him Friends,
If ill, a fhameful end on him depends

[Exit Uncle.

Flow. A plague go with you for an old Fornicator: Come, Kit, the Mony, come, honeft Kit.

Fath. Nay by my Faith, Sir, you shall pardon me.


Flow. And why, Sir, pardon you? give me the Mony, you old Rafcal, or I will make you.

Luce. Pray hold your Hands, give it him honeft Friend. Fath. If you be fo content, with all my Heart. Flow. Content, Sir, 'sblood fhe fhall be content Whether the will or no. A rattle-baby come to follow me? Go, get you gone to the greafie Chuff your Father, Bring me your Dowry, or never look on me.

Fath. Sir, fhe hath forfook her Father, and all her Friends for you.

Flow. Hang thee, her Friends and Father all together. Fath. Yet part with fomething to provide her Lodging. Flow. Yes, I mean to part with her and you, but if I part with one Angel, hang me at a Poft. I'll rather throw them at a caft of Dice, as I have done a thousand of their Fellows.

Fath. Nay then I will be plain, degenerate Boy, Thou hadst a Father would have been afham'd.

Flow. My Father was an Afs, an old Ass. Fath. Thy Father? proud licentious Villain; What are you at your foils? I'll foil with you. Luce. Good Sir, forbear him.

Fath. Did not this whining Woman hang on me, I'd teach thee what it was to abufe thy Father:

Go hang, beg, ftarve, Dice, Game, that when all's gone,
Thou may'ft after defpair and hang thy felf.

Luce. O do not curfe him.

Fath. I do not curfe him, and to pray for him were vain, It grieves me that he bears his Father's Name.

Flow. Well, you old Rafcal, I fhall meet with you.
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 beft.

Fath. Pay me the twenty Pound then that I lent you, Or give me Security when I may have it.

Flow. I'll pay thee not a Penny,

And for Security I'll give thee none.

Minckins, look you do not follow me, look you do not:
If you do, Beggar, I fhall flit

your Nose.
T 4


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