WEATHERCOCK.
By the mackins, I do.
LANCELOT.
What, do you think that ere he will have grace?
WEATHERCOCK.
By my faith, it will go hard.
OLIVER. Well, che vor ye, he is changed: and Master Flowerdale, in hope you been so, hold, there’s vorty pound toward your zetting up: what, be not ashamed; vang it, man, vang it: be a good husband, loven your wife: and you shall not want for vorty more, I che vor thee.
ARTHUR.
My means are little, but if you’ll follow me,
I will instruct my ablest power:
But to your wife I give this diamond,
And prove true diamond fair in all your life.
FLOWERDALE.
Thanks, good Sir Arthur, Master Oliver,
You being my enemy, and grown so kind,
Binds me in all endeavor to restore—
OLIVER. What! restore me no restorings, man. I have vorty pound more for Lucy; here, vang it: Zouth, chil devie London else. What, do not think me a Mezel or a Scoundrel to throw away my money: che have a hundred pound more to pace of any good spotation: I hope your vader and your uncle here wil vollow my examples.
UNCLE. You have guessed right of me; if he leave of this course of life, he shall be mine heir.
LANCELOT.
But he shall never get a groat of me:
A cozener, a deceiver, one that killed
His painful father, honest gentleman
That passed the fearful danger of the sea,
To get him living and maintain him brave.
WEATHERCOCK.
What, hath he killed his father?