OLIVER.
And tyt trust to it, so then.
LANCELOT.
Assure your self,
You shall be married with all speed we may:
One day shall serve for Frances and for Lucy.
OLIVER. Why che would vain know the time, for providing wedding raiments.
LANCELOT. Why, no more but this: first get your assurance made, touching my daughter’s jointer; that dispatched, we will in two days make provision.
OLIVER.
Why, man, chil have the writings made by tomorrow.
LANCELOT. Tomorrow be it then: let’s meet at the king’s head in fish street.
OLIVER.
No, fie, man, no, let’s meet at the Rose at Temple-Bar,
That will be nearer your counsellor and mine.
LANCELOT.
At the Rose be it then, the hour nine:
He that comes last forfeits a pint of wine.
OLIVER.
A pint is no payment, let it be a whole quart or nothing.
[Enter Artichoke.]