LANCELOT.
Hang not upon him, huswife; if you do, I’ll lay you by him.
LUCY.
Have me no oder way dan you have him:
He tell me dat he love me heartily.
FRANCES. Lead away my maid to prison! why, Tom, will you suffer that?
CIVET. No, by your leave, father, she is no vagrant: she is my wife’s chamber maid, & as true as the skin between any man’s brows here.
LANCELOT.
Go to, you’re both fools:
Son Civet, of my life, this is a plot,
Some straggling counterfeit preferred to you,
No doubt to rob you of your plate and jewels.
I’ll have you led away to prison, trull.
LUCY.
I am no trull, neither outlandish Frau.
Nor he, nor I shall to the prison go:
Know you me now? nay, never stand amazed.
Father, I know I have offended you,
And though that duty wills me bend my knees
To you in duty and obedience:
Yet this ways do I turn, and to him yield
My love, my duty and my humbleness.
LANCELOT.
Bastard in nature! kneel to such a slave?
LUCY.
O Master Flowerdale, if too much grief
Have not stopped up the organs of your voice,
Then speak to her that is thy faithful wife:
Or doth contempt of me thus tie thy tongue?
Turn not away, I am no Aethiope,
No wanton Cressida, nor a changing Helen:
But rather one made wretched by thy loss.
What, turnst thou still from me? O then
I guess thee woefulst among hapless men.
FLOWERDALE.
I am, indeed, wife, wonder among wives!
Thy chastity and virtue hath infused
Another soul in me, red with defame,
For in my blushing cheeks is seen my shame.
LANCELOT.
Out, hypocrite. I charge thee, trust him not.