LUCY.
Alas, I ne’er ought nothing but I paid it,
And I can work; alas, he can do nothing:
I have some friends perhaps will pity me,
His chiefest friends do seek his misery.
All that I can or beg, get, or receive,
Shall be for you: O do not turn away;
Methinks, within, a face so reverent,
So well experienced in this tottering world,
Should have some feeling of a maiden’s grief:
For my sake, his father’s, and your brother’s sake,
Aye, for your soul’s sake that doth hope for joy,
Pity my state: do not two souls destroy.
UNCLE.
Fair maid, stand up; not in regard of him,
But in pity of thy hapless choice,
I do release him. Master Sheriff, I thank you:
And, officers, there is for you to drink.
Here, maid, take this money; there is a 100 angels:
And for I will be sure he shall not have it,
Here, Kester, take it you, and use it sparingly,
But let not her have any want at all.
Dry your eyes, niece, do not too much lament
For him, whose life hath been in riot spent:
If well he useth thee, he gets him friends,
If ill, a shameful end on him depends.
[Exit Uncle.]
FLOWERDALE.
A plague go with you for an old fornicator.
Come, Kit, the money; come, honest Kit.
FATHER.
Nay, by my faith, sir, you shall pardon me.
FLOWERDALE. And why, sir, pardon you? give me the money, you old rascal, or I shall make you.
LUCY.
Pray, hold your hands: give it him, honest friend.
FATHER.
If you be so content, with all my heart.
FLOWERDALE. Content, sir: sblood, she shall be content, whether she will or no. A rattle baby come to follow me! Go, get you gone to the greasy chuff your father, bring me your dowry, or never look on me.
FATHER.
Sir, she hath forsook her father and all her friends for you.