UNCLE.
I told you so, but you would not believe it.
FATHER.
Well, I have found it, but one thing comforts me:
Brother, tomorrow he’s to be married
To beauteous Lucy, Sir Lancelot Spurcock’s daughter.
UNCLE.
Ist possible?
FATHER.
Tis true, and thus I mean to curb him.
This day, brother, I will you shall arrest him:
If any thing will tame him, it must be that,
For he is ranked in mischief, chained to a life,
That will increase his shame, and kill his wife.
UNCLE.
What, arrest him on his wedding day?
That were unchristian, and an unhumane part:
How many couple even for that very day
Hath purchased 7 year’s sorrow afterward?
Forbear him then today, do it tomorrow,
And this day mingle not his joy with sorrow.
FATHER.
Brother, I’ll have it done this very day,
And in the view of all, as he comes from Church:
Do but observe the course that he will take.
Upon my life he will forswear the debt:
And for we’ll have the sum shall not be slight,
Say that he owes you near three thousand pound:
Good brother, let it be done immediately.
UNCLE.
Well, seeing you will have it so,
Brother, I’ll do it, and straight provide the Sheriff.
FATHER.
So, brother, by this means shall we perceive
What Sir Lancelot in this pinch will do:
And how his wife doth stand affected to him—
Her love will then be tried to the uttermost—
And all the rest of them. Brother, what I will do,
Shall harm him much, and much avail him too.
[Exit.]