Just. Tut. How's this? made her yours, sir, per quam regulam?
Nay, we are letter'd, sir, as well as you,
Redde rationem; per quam regulam?
Throat. Fæminæ[426] ludificantur viros:
By that same rule these lips have taken seizin:
Tut, I do all by statute-law and reason.
Lady Som. Hence, you base knave! you petty-fogging groom!
Clad in old ends, and piec'd with brokery:
You wed my daughter!
Just. Tut. You, sir Ambi-dexter!
A sumner's[427] son, and learn'd in Norfolk wiles:
Some common bail or counter-lawyer,
Marry my niece! your half-sleeves shall not carry her.
Throat. These storms will be dissolv'd in tears of joy,
Mother, I doubt it not. Justice, to you,
That jerk at my half-sleeves, and yet yourself
Do never wear but buckram out of sight:
A flannel waist-coat or a canvas truss,
A shift of thrift, I use it: let's be friends,
You know the law has tricks—ka me, ka thee!
Viderit utilitas, the mot to these half-arms,
Corpus cum causa, need no bumbasting:
We wear small hair, yet have we tongue and wit,
Lawyers close-breech'd have bodies politic.
Lady Som. Speak, answer me, sir Jack: stole you my daughter?
Throat. Short tale to make, I fingered have your daughter:
I have ta'en livery and seisin of the wench.
Deliver her then: you know the statute-laws;
She's mine without exception, bar, or clause;
Come, come, restore.
Lady Som. The fellow's mad, I think.
Throat. I was not mad before I married;
But, ipso facto, what the act may make me,
That know I not.
Just. Tut. Fellows, come in there.