Girl, hold thee there: look on this Devonshire lad: Fat, fair, and lovely, both in purse and person.

OLIVER.

Well, sir, cham as the Lord hath made me. You know me well, uyine: cha have three-score pack a karsie, and black-em hal, and chief credit beside, and my fortunes may be so good as an others, zo it may.

LUCY.

[Aside to Arthur.] Tis you I love, whatsoever others say.

ARTHUR.

Thanks, fairest.

FLOWERDALE.

[Aside to Father.] What, wouldnst thou have me quarrel with him?

FATHER.

Do but say he shall hear from you.

LANCELOT.

Yet, gentleman, howsoever I prefer This Devonshire suitor, I'll enforce no love; My daughter shall have liberty to choose Whom she likes best; in your love suit proceed: Not all of you, but only one must speed.

WEATHERc.o.c.k.

You have said well: indeed, right well.

[Enter Artichoke.]

ARTICHOKE.

Mistress, here's one would speak with you. My fellow Daffodil hath him in the cellar already: he knows him; he met him at Croyden fair.

LANCELOT.

O, I remember, a little man.

ARTICHOKE.

Aye, a very little man.

LANCELOT.

And yet a proper man.

ARTICHOKE.

A very proper, very little man.

LANCELOT .

His name is Monsieur Civet.

ARTICHOKE.

The same, sir.

LANCELOT.

Come, Gentlemen, if other suitors come, My foolish daughter will be fitted too: But Delia my saint, no man dare move.

[Exeunt all but young Flowerdale and Oliver, and old Flowerdale.]

FLOWERDALE.

Hark you, sir, a word.

OLIVER.

What haan you to say to me now?

FLOWERDALE.

Ye shall hear from me, and that very shortly.

OLIVER.

Is that all? vare thee well, chee vere thee not a vig.

[Exit Oliver.]

FLOWERDALE.

What if he should come now? I am fairly dressed.

FATHER.

I do not mean that you shall meet with him, But presently we'll go and draw a will: Where we'll set down land that we never saw, And we will have it of so large a sum, Sir Lancelot shall entreat you take his daughter: This being formed, give it Master Weatherc.o.c.k, And make Sir Lancelot's daughter heir of all: And make him swear never to show the will To any one, until that you be dead.

This done, the foolish changing Weatherc.o.c.k Will straight discourse unto Sir Lancelot The form and tenor of your Testament.

Nor stand to pause of it, be ruled by me: What will ensue, that shall you quickly see.

FLOWERDALE.

Come, let's about it: if that a will, sweet Kit, Can get the wench, I shall renown thy wit.

[Exit Omnes.]

SCENE II. A room in Sir Lancelot's house.

[Enter Daffodil.]

DAFFODIL.

Mistress, still froward? No kind looks Unto your Daffodil? now by the G.o.ds--

LUCY.

Away, you foolish knave, let my hand go.

DAFFODIL.

There is your hand, but this shall go with me: My heart is thine, this is my true love's fee.

LUCY.

I'll have your coat stripped o'er your ears for this, You saucy rascal.

[Enter Lancelot and Weatherc.o.c.k.]

LANCELOT.

How now, maid, what is the news with you?