W. Small. Father, father,
Heart! will you undo your posterity?
Will you, sir, undo your posterity?
I can but kill my brother, then hang myself,
And where is then your house? Make me not despair,
'Foot, now I have got a wench, worth by the year
Two thousand pound and upwards, to cross my hopes!
Would e'er a clown in Christendom do't but you?
T. Small. Good father, let him leave this thundering,
And give him grace.
W. Small. Why, la, my brother knows
Reason, and what an honest man should do.
O. Small. Well, where's your wife?
W. Small. She's coming here behind.
O. Small. I'll give her somewhat, though I love not thee.
W. Small. My father, right: I knew you could not hold
Out long with a woman; but give something
Worthy your gift and her acceptance, father.
This chain were excellent, by this good light,
She shall give you as good, if once her lands
Enter Frances and Beard.
Come to my fingering.
O. Small. Peace, knave! what, 's she your wife?