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To imprison him that nothing hath to pay?
Unc. Lady, I know his Humours all too well,
Luce. Say that your Debts were paid, then is he free? ?
Unc. Ay, Virgin, that being answer'd, I have done.
Luce. O go not yet, good Master Flowerdale :
Flow. Ay, by Gad, Uncle, and my Bond toc.
Luce. Alas, I ne'er ought nothing but I paid it ;
Onc. Fair Maid, stand up; not in regard of him,
Flow. À plague go with you for an old Fornicator:
Fath. Nay by my Faith, Sir, you shall pardon me.
Flow. And why, Sir, pardon you? give me the Mony, you old Rascal, or I will make you.
Luce. Pray hold your Hands, give it him honest Friend.
Heart. 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 greafie Chuff your Father, Bring me your Dowry, or never look on me.
Fath. Sir, she hath forsook her Father, and all her Friends
Flow. Hang thee, hér Friends and Father all together. Fath. Yet part with something 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 cast of Dice, as I have done a thousand of their Fellows.
Fath. Nay then I will be plain, degenerate Boy, Thou hadft a Father would have been asham’d.
Flow. My Father was an Ass, an old Ass.
Luce. Good Sir, forbear him.
Luce. O do not curse him.
Fath. I do not curse him, and to pray for him were vain, It grieves me that he bears his Father's Name.
Flow. Well, you old Rascal, I shall meet with you.
you hear? Look you do not Use my Name, you were beft.
Fath. Pay me the twenty Pound then that I lent you,
Flow. I'll pay thee not a Penny,
do not : If you do, Beggar, I fhall fit your Nose.
Luce. Alas, what shall I do?
Flow. Why turn Whore, that's a good Trade, And so perhaps I'll see thee now and then,
[Exit Flowerdale. Luce. Alas-the-day that ever I was born. Fath. Sweet Mistress, do not weep, I'll stick to you.
Luce. Alas, my Friend, I know not what to do,
Fath. It grieves me at the Soul, to see her Tears.
[Exeunt. Enter. Sir Lancelot, Master Weathercock and the reft,
Oli. Well, cha a bin zerved many a fluttish Trick,
Lanc. Son Civet, Daughter Frances, bear with me,
Civ. Father, 'tis so, 'tis even faln out fo,
Lanc. Ay, Son Civet, I'll come.
Oli. Ay, for che a vext out this veast, chil fee if a gan
Civ. And you, Sir Arthur?
Arth. Ay, Sir, although my Heart be full, I'll be a Partner at your Wedding Feast.
Civ. And welcome all indeed, and welcome; come Frank, are you ready?
Frank. Jeshue, how hasty these Husbands are, I pray, Father, pray to God to bless me.
Lanc. God bless thee, and I do; God make thee wise, Send you both Joy, I wish it with wet Eyes.
Frank. But, Father, shall not my Sister Delia go along with us? She is excellent good at Cookery, and such things.
Lanc. Yes marry shall she : Delia, make you ready.
Del. I am ready, Sir, I will first go to Greenwich, From thence to my Cousin Chesterfield, and so to London.
Civ. It shall suffice, good Sister Delia, it shall suffice, but fail us not, good sister, give order to Cooks and others, for I would not have my sweet Frank to foil her Fingers.
Frank. No by my troth not I, a Gentlewoman, and a marrried Gentlewoman too, to be Companion to Cooks, And Kitchin-boys, not I i'faith, I scorn that,
Civ. Why, I do not mean thou shalt, sweet Heart, thou feeft I do not go about it; well, farewel too : You Gods pity Mr. Weathercock, we shall have your Company too?
Wearb. With all my Heart, for I love good Cheer.
Frank. God be with you, Father, God be with you, Sir Arthur, Master Oliver, and Master Weathercock, Sister, God be with you all : God be with you, Father, God be with you every one.
Weath. Why, how now, Sir Arthur, all a mort, Master Oliver, how now, Man? Cheerly, Sir Lancelot, and merrily say, Who can hold that will away.
Lanc. Ay, she is gone indeed, poor Girl, undone, But when these be self-willd, Children must smart.
Art. But, Sir, that she is wronged, you are the chiefest Cause, therefore 'tis reason you redress her wrong. Weath. Indeed you must, Sir Lancelot, you must.
Lanc. Must? who can compel me, Mr. Wearhercock? I hope I may do what I lift. Weath. I grant you may, you may do what you
. Nay, but and you be well evifen, it were not good, By this vrampolness, and vrowardness, to caft away As pretty a dow[label, as am chould chance to see In a Summers Day; chil tell you what chall do, Chil go spy up and down the Town, and fee if I Can hear any Tale or Tydings of her, And take het away from thick a Messel, vor cham Afhured, heel but bring her to the spoil, And so var you well
, we shall meet at your Son Civet's, Lane. I thank you, Sir, I take it very kindly.
Arth. To find her out, I'll spend my dearest Blood. So well I lov'd her, to affect her Good.
[Excunt Ambo. Lanc. O Master Weathercock, What hap had I, to force my Daughter From Master Oliver, and this good Knight, To one that hath no Goodness in his Thought?
Weath. Ill luck, but what remedy?
Lanc. Yes, I have almost devised a Remedy,
Weath. Sure? nothing more sure.
Lanc. Well if he be in Prison, I'll have Warrants
Weath. Marry may you, and overthrow him too.
Lanc. Nay that's not fo; I may chance be scoft,
therefore take heed.
Enter Flowerdale. Flow. A plague of the Devil, the Devil take the Dice. The Dice, and the Devil, and his D.m go together ; Of all my hundred golden Angels, I have not left me one Denier :