FLOWERDALE.
Aye, my will, sir? sfoot, do you know ought of my will?
Begod, and you do, sir, I am abused.
LANCELOT. Go, Master Flowerdale; what I know, I know: and know you thus much out of my knowledge, that I truly love you. For my daughter, she’s yours. And if you like a marriage better than a brawl, all quirks of reputation set aside, go with me presently: And where you should fight a bloody battle, you shall be married to a lovely lady.
FLOWERDALE.
Nay but, Sir Lancelot—
LANCELOT. If you will not embrace my offer, yet assure your self thus much, I will have order to hinder your encounter.
FLOWERDALE.
Nay, but hear me, Sir Lancelot.
LANCELOT. Nay, stand not you upon imputative honour. Tis merely unsound, unprofitable, and idle inferences: your business is to wed my daughter, therefore give me your present word to do it. I’ll go and provide the maid, therefore give me your present resolution, either now or never.
FLOWERDALE.
Will you so put me to it?
LANCELOT. Aye, afore God, either take me now, or take me never. Else what I thought should be our match, shall be our parting; so fare you well forever.
FLOWERDALE.
Stay: fall out what may fall, my love is above all: I will come.
LANCELOT.
I expect you, and so fare you well.