FLOWERDALE.
By this hand, this Dutch wench is in love with me.
Were it not admiral to make her steal all Civet’s
plate, and run away.
FATHER.
Twere beastly. O Master Flowerdale,
Have you no fear of God, nor conscience?
What do you mean by this wild course you take?
FLOWERDALE.
What do I mean? why, to live, that I mean.
FATHER.
To live in this sort? fie upon the course:
Your life doth show, you are a very coward.
FLOWERDALE.
A coward? I pray, in what?
FATHER.
Why, you will borrow sixpence of a boy.
FLOWERDALE. Snails, is there such cowardice in that? I dare borrow it of a man, I, and of the tallest man in England, if he will lend it me. Let me borrow how I can, and let them come by it how they dare. And it is well known, I might a rid out a hundred times if I would: so I might.
FATHER.
It was not want of will, but cowardice.
There is none that lends to you, but know they gain:
And what is that but only stealth in you?
Delia might hang you now, did not her heart
Take pity of you for her sister’s sake.
Go, get you hence, least, lingering where you stay,
You fall into their hands you look not for.
FLOWERDALE. I’ll tarry here, till the Dutch Frau comes, if all the devils in hell were here.
[Exit Father.]