O. K. Within there?
Enter Servant.
Ser. Sir?
O. K. Call up the folks i'th' Hall. I had such hope on him,
For a Scholar too, a thing thou ne'er wast fit for
Therefore erected all my joyes in him;
Got a Welch Benefice in reversion for him,
Dean of Cardigan, has his grace already,
He can marry and bury, yet ne'er a hair on's face;
Enter Credulous, Sir Ruinous (as a Constable,) and Lady Gentry (as a Man.)
Like a French Vicar, and, Does he bring such fruits to Town with him?
A Thief at his first lighting? Oh good den to you.
Wit. Nay, sweet Sir, you'r so vext now, you'l grieve him,
And hurt your self.
O. K. Away, I'll hear no counsel;
Come you but once in seven year to your Uncle,
And at that time must you be brought home too?
And by a Constable?
Wit. Oh speak low, Sir,
Remember your own credit, you profess
You love a Man o'wit, begin at home, Sir,
Express it i'your self.
Lady. Nay, Master Constable,
Shew your self a wise man, 'gainst your nature too.