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Master Weathercock, you come in happy time. The desperate Flowerdale hath writ a challenge: And who think you must answer it, but the Devonshire man, my son Oliver?

WEATHERCOCK.

Marry, I am sorry for it, good Sir Lancelot,

But if you will be ruled by me, we'll stay the fury.

LANCELOT.

As how, I pray?

WEATHERCOCK.

Marry, I'll tell you: by promising young Flowerdale the red lipped Lucy.

LANCELOT.

I'll rather follow her unto her grave.

WEATHERCOCK.

Aye, Sir Lancelot, I would have thought so too, but you and I have been deceived in him: come read this will, or deed, or what you call it, I know not. Come, come, your spectacles I pray.

LANCELOT.

Nay, I thank God, I see very well.

WEATHERCOCK.

Marry, bless your eyes, mine hath been dim almost this thirty years.

LANCELOT.

Ha, what is this? what is this?

WEATHERCOCK.

Nay, there is true love, indeed:

He gave it to me but this very morn,

And bid me keep it unseen from any one.

Good youth, to see how men may be deceived!

LANCELOT.

Passion of me, what a wretch am I

To hate this loving youth: he hath made me,

Together with my Lucy he loves so dear,

Executors of all his wealth.

WEATHERCOCK.

All, all, good man; he hath given you all.

LANCELOT.

Three ships now in the straits & homeward bound,

Two Lordships of two hundred pound a year,

The one in Wales, the other in Gloucestershire:

Debts and accounts are thirty thousand pound;

Plate, money, jewels, 16 thousand more;

Two housen furnished well in Cole-man street:

Beside whatsoever his Uncle leaves to him,

Being of great demeans and wealth at Peckham.

WEATHERCOCK.

How like you this, good knight? how like you this?

LANCELOT.

I have done him wrong, but now I'll make amends,

The Devonshire man shall whistle for a wife:

He marry Lucy! Lucy shall be Flowerdale's.

WEATHERCOCK.

Why, that is friendly said.

Let's ride to London and prevent their match,

By promising your daughter to that lovely lad.

LANCELOT.

We'll ride to London:—or it shall not need,

We'll cross to Dedfort-strand, and take a boat.

Where be these knaves? what, Artichoke? what, Fop?

[Enter Artichoke.]

ARTICHOKE.

Here be the very knaves, but not the merry knaves.

LANCELOT.

Here, take my cloak, I'll have a walk to Dedford.

ARTICHOKE.

Sir, we have been scouring of our swords and bucklers in your defence.

LANCELOT.

Defence me no defence! let your swords rust, I'll have no fighting: Aye, let blows alone; bid Delia see all things be in readiness against the wedding. We'll have two at once, and that will save charges, Master Weathercock.

ARTICHOKE.

Well, we will do it, sir.

[Exit Omnes.]

ACT III.

SCENE I. A walk before Sir Lancelot's house.

[Enter Civet, Frances, and Delia.]

CIVET.

By my truth, this is good luck, I thank God for this. In good sooth, I have even my heart's desire: sister Delia, now I may boldly call you so, for your father hath frank and freely given me his daughter Frances.

FRANCES.

Aye, by my troth, Tom; thou hast my good will too, for

I thank God I longed for a husband, and, would I might

never stir, for one his name was Tom.

DELIA.

Why, sister, now you have your wish.

CIVET.

You say very true, sister Delia: and I prithee call me nothing but Tom and I'll call thee sweetheart, and Frances: will it not do well, sister Delia?

DELIA.

It will do very well with both of you.

FRANCES.

But, Tom, must I go as I do now when I am married?

CIVET.

No, Frances, I'll have thee go like a Citizen

In a garded gown, and a French-hood.

FRANCES.

By my troth, that will be excellent indeed.

DELIA.

Brother, maintain your wife to your estate:

Apparel you yourself like to your father,

And let her go like to your ancient mother.

He sparing got his wealth, left it to you;

Brother, take heed of pride, it soon bids thrift adieu.

CIVET.

So as my father and my mother went! that's a jest indeed: why she went in a fringed gown, a single ruffle, and a white cap; and my father in a mocado coat, a pair of red satin sleeves, and a canvas back.

DELIA.