LANCELOT .
His name is Monsieur Civet.
ARTICHOKE.
The same, sir.
LANCELOT.
Come, Gentlemen, if other suitors come,
My foolish daughter will be fitted too:
But Delia my saint, no man dare move.
[Exeunt all but young Flowerdale and Oliver, and old Flowerdale.]
FLOWERDALE.
Hark you, sir, a word.
OLIVER.
What haan you to say to me now?
FLOWERDALE.
Ye shall hear from me, and that very shortly.
OLIVER. Is that all? vare thee well, chee vere thee not a vig.
[Exit Oliver.]
FLOWERDALE.
What if he should come now? I am fairly dressed.