CITIZEN’S WIFE. I thank you, good friend. I prithee let me see that again I gave thee: there is one of them a brass shilling; give me them, and here is half a crown in gold. [He gives it her.] Now, out upon thee, Rascal! secret service! what doest thou make of me? it were a good deed to have thee whipped. Now I have my money again, I’ll see thee hanged before I give thee a penny. Secret service! On, good Alexander.
[Exit both.]
FLOWERDALE. This is villainous luck. I perceive dishonesty will not thrive: here comes more. God forgive me, Sir Arthur, and Master Oliver: afore God, I’ll speak to them.
[Enter Sir Arthur, and M. Oliver.]
God save you, Sir Arthur: God save you, Master Oliver.
OLIVER. Byn you there, zirrah? come, will you ytaken yourself to your tools, Coystrell?
FLOWERDALE.
Nay, master Oliver, I’ll not fight with you.
Alas, sir, you know it was not my doings,
It was only a plot to get Sir Lancelot’s daughter:
By God, I never meant you harm.
OLIVER.
And whore is the Gentle-woman thy wife, Mezell?
Whore is shee, Zirrah, ha?
FLOWERDALE. By my troth, Master Oliver, sick, very sick; and God is my judge, I know not what means to make for her, good Gentle-woman.
OLIVER.
Tell me true, is she sick? tell me true, itch vise thee.