Puslapio vaizdai
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Father, honeft Gentleman,

That pass'd the fearful danger of the Sea,

To get him living, and maintain him brave.
Weath. What hath he kili'd his Father?

Lanc. Ay, Sir, with conceit of his vile Courfes.,
Fath. Sir, you are misinform'd.

Lanc. Why, thou old Knave, thou told'ft me fo thy felf. 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 wrong'd thee What thou in love gives, I in love reftore.

[more, Fran. Ha, ha, Sifter, there you plid bo-peep with us;

Tom, what fhall I give her toward Houthold?
Sifter Delia, fhall I give her my Fan?

Del. You were beft ask your Husband.

Fran. Shall I, Tom?

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

Fran. A ruffet one, Tom.

Civ. Ay with ruffet Feathers.

Fran. Here, Sifter, there's my Fan toward Houfhold, to keep you warm.

Luce. I thank you, Sifter.

Weath. Why this is well, and toward fair Luce's Stock, here's forty Shillings: And forty good Shillings more, Fl give her, marry. Come Sir Lancelot, I must have you Friends.

Lanc. Not I, all this is Counterfeit,

He will confume it, were it a Million.

Fath. Sir, what is your Daughter's Dower worth?
Lanc. Had he been married to an honeft 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 whofe word in London, tho' I fay it,
Will pass there for as much as yours.

Lanc. Wert not thou late that Uathrift's Serving-man?

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

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Lanc. Mafter Flowerdale!

Flow. My Fathe! O I 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 fent to thee to fave thy Sou!.

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

'Twas faid fo here, 'twas faid fo here good Faith. Fath. I caus'd that Rumour to be spread my felf, Because I'd fee the Humours of my Son,

Which to relate the Circumftance is needlefs:

And Sirrah, fee you run no more into that fame Disease: For he that's once cur'd of that Malady,

Of Riot, Swearing, Drunkenness, and Pride,

And falls again into the like diftress,

That Fever is deadly, doth 'till Death endure:

Such Men die mad, as of a Calenture.

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

Lanc. Well, being in hope you'll prøve an honeft Man,
I take you to my favour. Brother Flowerdale,
Welcome with all my Heart: I fee your Care
Hath brought thefe A&ts to this Conclufion,
And I am glad of it, come let's in and feaft.
Oli. Nay zoft you a while, you promis'd to make
Sir Arthur and me amends, here is your wifeft
Daughter, fee which an's fhe'll have.

Lanc. A God's name, you have my good will, get hers.
Oli. How fay you then, Damfel.

Del. I, Sir, am yours.

Oli. Why, then fend for a Vicar, and chil have it

Dispatched in a trice, fo chil.

Del. Pardon me, Sir, I mean I am yours,

In Love, in Duty, and Affection.

But not to love as Wife, shall ne'er be faid,
Delia was buried, married, but a Maid.

Arth.

Arth. Do not condemn your felf for ever, Virtuous Fair, you were born to love.

Oli. Why you fay true, Sir Arthur, fhe was ybore to it, So well as her Mother; but I pray you fhew us

Some Zamples or Reafons why you will not marry?
Del. Not that I do condemn a married Life,
For 'tis no doubt a fan&imonious thing:

But for the care and croffes of a Wife,
The trouble in this World that Children bring,
My Vow's in Heav'n in Earth to live alone,
Husbands, how foever 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, fhall'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 Caroufe,

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