Civ. You fay well, Sifter Delia, you fay well; but I mean to live within my Bounds; for look you, I have fet down my reft thus far, but to maintain my Wife in her French Hood, and her Coach, keep a couple of Geldings, and a brace of Gray-hounds, and this is all I'll do. Del. And you'll do this with forty Pounds a Year? Frank. Sifter, you forget that at Cuckolds Haven. Del. Keep you the reft for Points, alas the Day, Frank, Ay, by my Troth, Tom, for I have a good Stomach. Ciu. And I the like, fweet Frank; no Sifter, Do not think I'll go beyond my Bounds. Del. God grant you may not. [Exeunt Enter young Flowerdale, and his Father, with foils in their Hands. Flow. Sirrah, Kit, tarry you there, I have fpied Sir Lancelot and old Weathercock coming this way, they are hard at Hand, I will by no means be fpoken withal. Fath. I'll warrant you, go get you in. Enter Lancelot and Weathercock. Lanc. Now, my honeft Friend, thou doft belong to Mafter Flowerdale ? Fath. I do, Sir. Lanc. Is he within, my good Fellow ? Fath. No, Sir, he is not within. Lanc. I prethee, if he be within, let me fpeak with him. Fath. Sir, to tell you true, my Master is within, but indeed would not be fpoke withal; there be fome terms that ftands upon his Reputation, therefore he will not admit any Conference 'till he hath fhook them off. Lanc. I prethee tell him his very good Friend Sir Lancelot Spurcock intreats to fpeak with him. Fath. By my troth, Sir, if you come to take up the matter between my Mafter and the Devonshire Man, you do but beguile your hopes, and lofe your Labour. Lanc Lanc. Honeft Friend, I have not any fuch thing to him, I come to speak with him about other Matters. Fath. For my Master, Sir, hath fet down his Refolution, either to redeem his Honour, or leave his Life behind him. Lanc. My Friend, I do not know any Quarrel touching thy Mafter or any other Perfon, my Bufiness is of a diffe rent Nature to him, and I prethee fo tell him. Fath. For how foever the Devonshire Man is, My Master's Mind is bloody; that's a round O, And therefore, Sir, Intreaties are but vain. Lanc. I have no fuch thing to him, I tell thee once again. Fath. I will then fo fignifie to him. [Exit Father. Lanc. Ay, Sirrah, I fee this Matter is hotly carried. But I'll labour to diffwade him from it. Enter young Flowerdale and his Father. Good morrow, Mafter Flowerdale. Flow. Good morrow, good Sir Lancelot, Good morrow, Mafter Weathercock; By my troth, Gentlemen, I have been reading over Good to be known, not to be followed: Lanc. Mafter Flowerdale, I do underftand there is fome Jar between the Devonshire Man and you. Fath. They, Sir? they are good Friends as can be. Flow. Who Mafter Oliver and I? as good Friends as can be. Lanc. It is a kind of fafety in you to deny it, and a generous filence, which too few are indued withal: But, Sir, fuch a thing I hear, and I could with it otherwife. Flow. No fuch thing, Sir Lancelot, at my reputation, as I am an honeft Man. Lanc. Now I do believe you then, if you do Ingage your Reputation there is none. Flow. Nay I do not ingage my Reputation there is not, You fhall not bind me to any condition of hardness : But But if there be any thing between us, then there is, Flow. You may be deceiv'd, Sir Lancelot, the Italian Hath a pretty faying, Quefto? I have forgot it too, 'Tis out of my Head, but in my Tranflation (him. If't hold thus, thou haft a Friend, keep him; if a Foe trip Lanc. Come, I do fee by this there is fomewhat between And before God I could wish it otherwise. (you, Flow. Well what is between us, can hardly be alter'd: Sir Lancelot, I am to ride forth to morrow, That way which I muft ride, no Man muft deny Me the Sun, I would not by any particular Man, Be denied common and general Paffage. If any one Saith, Flowerdale, thou paffeft not this way; My answer is, I muft either on or return: But return is not my Word, I must on : If I cannot, then make my way, nature Hath done the laft for me, and there's the Fine. Lanc. Mr. Flowerdale, every Man hath one Tongue, And two Ears; Nature in her Building, Is a moft curious Work-mafter. Flow. That is as much as to fay, a Man fhould hear more Than he should speak. Lanc. You fay true, and indeed I have heard more, Than at this time I will speak. Flow. You fay well, Lanc. Slanders are more common than Troths, Master Flowerdale, but Proof is the Rule for both. Flow. You fay true, what do you call him Hath it there in his third Canton ? Lanc. I have heard you have been wild: I have believ'd it. Flow, 'Twas fit, 'twas neceffary. Lanc. But I have feen fomewhat of late in you, That hath confirm'd in me an Opinion of Goodness toward you.. Flow. I'Faith, Sir, I am fure I never did you harm: Some good I have done, either to you or yours, I am fure you know not, neither is it my will you fhould. Lanc. Lanc. Ay, your Will, Sir. Flow. Ay, my Will, Sir; 'sfoot do you know ought of Begod and you do, Sir, I am abus'd. (my Will? Lanc. Go, Mr. Flowerdale, what I know, I know; She's yours. And if you like a Marriage better Than a Brawl, all quirks of Reputation fet afide, go with me presently: And where you fhould fight a bloody Battel, you fhall be married to a lovely Lady. Flow. Nay but, Sir Lancelot ? Lanc. If you will not imbrace my offer, yet affure your felf thus much, I will have order to hinder your Encounter. Flow. Nay but hear me, Sir Lancelot. Lanc. Nay, ftand not you upon imputative Honour, 'Tis meerly unfound, unprofitable, and idle Inferences; your Bufinefs is to wed my Daughter, therefore give me your prefent word to do it; I'll go and provide the Maid, therefore give me your prefent Refolution, either now or never. Flow. Will you fo put me to it? (never. Lanc. Ay, afore God, either take me now, or take me Elfe what I thought should be our match, shall be our parting. So fare you well for ever. Flow. Stay; fall out, what may fall, my Love Is above all I will come. Lanc. I expect you, and so fare you well. [Exit Sir Lancelot. Fath. Now, Sir, how fhall we do for wedding Apparel? The Marriage ended, we'll make amends for all. Flow. And thou fhalt fee, when once I have my Dower, Elfe Elfe would I fwear, he never was my Son, Enter young Flowerdale's Uncle. Unc. I told you, fo, but you would not believe it. To beauteous Luce, Sir Lancelot Spurcock's Daughter. Fath. 'Tis true, and thus I mean to curb him; Unc. Well, feeing you will have it fo, Fath. |