LANCELOT.
And yet perhaps his Uncle hath released him.
WEATHERCOCK.
It may be very like, no doubt he hath.
LANCELOT.
Well, if he be in prison, I’ll have warrants
To ’tach my daughter till the law be tried,
For I will sue him upon cozenage.
WEATHERCOCK.
Marry, may you, and overthrow him too.
LANCELOT.
Nay, that’s not so, I may chance be soft,
And sentence past with him.
WEATHERCOCK.
Believe me, so he may, therefore take heed.
LANCELOT.
Well, howsoever, yet I will have warrants:
In prison, or at liberty, all’s one:
You will help to serve them, Master Weathercock?
[Exit Omnes.]
SCENE II. A street in London.
[Enter Flowerdale.]