W. Small. Excellent! I'll but shift my boots, and then
Go seek a priest; this night I will be sure.
If we be sure, it cannot be undone;
Can it, Master Throat?
Throat. O, sir, not possible;
You have many precedents and book-cases for't,
Be you but sure, and then let me alone.
Vivat Rex, currat Lex; and I'll defend you.
W. Small. Nay, then, hang care: come, let's in.
[Exit William Small-Shanks.
Throat. Ha, ha!
Have you stole her? fallere fallentem non est fraus.
It shall go hard but I will strip you, boy:
You stole the wench, but I must her enjoy. [Exit.
Enter Mistress Taffata and Adriana, below.
Taf. Come, Adriana, tell me what thou think'st.
I am tickled with conceit of marriage,
And whom think'st thou for me the fittest husband?
What say'st thou to young Boutcher?
Adri. A pretty fellow;
But that his back is weak.
Taf. What dost thou say
To Throat the lawyer?
Adri. I like that well,
Were the rogue a lawyer; but he is none.
He never was of any inn-of-court,
But [of an] inn-of-chancery, where a' was known
But only for a swaggering whiffler,
To keep out rogues and prentices: I saw him,
When he was stock'd for stealing the cook's fees.
A lawyer I could like, for 'tis a thing
Used by your citizens' wives. Your husband's dead:
To get French hoods you straight must lawyers wed.