FLOWERDALE.
Aye, by G.o.d, Uncle, and my bond too.
LUCY.
Alas, I ne"er ought nothing but I paid it, And I can work; alas, he can do nothing: I have some friends perhaps will pity me, His chiefest friends do seek his misery.
All that I can or beg, get, or receive, Shall be for you: O do not turn away; Methinks, within, a face so reverent, So well experienced in this tottering world, Should have some feeling of a maiden"s grief: For my sake, his father"s, and your brother"s sake, Aye, for your soul"s sake that doth hope for joy, Pity my state: do not two souls destroy.
UNCLE.
Fair maid, stand up; not in regard of him, But in pity of thy hapless choice, I do release him. Master Sheriff, I thank you: And, officers, there is for you to drink.
Here, maid, take this money; there is a 100 angels: And for I will be sure he shall not have it, Here, Kester, take it you, and use it sparingly, But let not her have any want at all.
Dry your eyes, niece, do not too much lament For him, whose life hath been in riot spent: If well he useth thee, he gets him friends, If ill, a shameful end on him depends.
[Exit Uncle.]
FLOWERDALE.
A plague go with you for an old fornicator.
Come, Kit, the money; come, honest Kit.
FATHER.
Nay, by my faith, sir, you shall pardon me.
FLOWERDALE.
And why, sir, pardon you? give me the money, you old rascal, or I shall make you.
LUCY.
Pray, hold your hands: give it him, honest friend.
FATHER.
If you be so content, with all my heart.
FLOWERDALE.
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 greasy chuff your father, bring me your dowry, or never look on me.
FATHER.
Sir, she hath forsook her father and all her friends for you.
FLOWERDALE.
Hang thee, her friends and father altogether.
FATHER.
Yet part with something to provide her lodging.
FLOWERDALE.
Yes, I mean to part with her and you, but if I part with one angel, hang me at a post. I"ll rather throw them at a cast at dice, as I have done a thousand of their fellows.
FATHER.
Nay, then, I will be plain, degenerate boy.
Thou hadst a father would have been ashamed.
FLOWERDALE.
My father was an a.s.s, an old a.s.s.
FATHER.
Thy father? proud, licentious villain!
What, are you at your foils? I"ll foil with you.
LUCY.
Good sir, forbear him.
FATHER.
Did not this whining woman hang on me, I"d teach thee what it was to abuse thy father: Go! hang, beg, starve, dice, game, that when all is gone, Thou mayest after despair and hang thyself.
LUCY.
O, do not curse him.
FATHER.
I do not curse him, and to pray for him were vain; It grieves me that he bears his father"s name.
FLOWERDALE.
Well, you old rascal, I shall 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 best.
FATHER.
Pay me the twenty pound, then, that I lent you, Or give me security, when I may have it.
FLOWERDALE.
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 shall slit your nose.
LUCY.
Alas, what shall I do?
FLOWERDALE.
Why, turn whose, that"s a good trade, And so perhaps I"ll see thee now and then.
[Exit Flowerdale.]
LUCY.
Alas the day that ever I was born.
FATHER.
Sweet mistress, do not weep, I"ll stick to you.
LUCY.
Alas, my friend, I know not what to do.
My father and my friends, they have despised me: And I, a wretched maid, thus cast away, Knows neither where to go, nor what to say.
FATHER.
It grieves me at the soul, to see her tears Thus stain the crimson roses of her cheeks.-- Lady, take comfort, do not mourn in vain.
I have a little living in this town, The which I think comes to a hundred pound, All that and more shall be at your dispose.