228 Or as a Hawk, that never
stoop'd to lure:
229The one mu
st be tamed with an iron bit,
230The other mu
st be watch'd, or
still
she is wild,
231Such is my
son, a while let him be
so;
232For coun
sel
still is follies deadly foe.
233I'le
serve his youth, for youth mu
st have his cour
se,
234For being re
strain'd, it makes him ten times wor
se:
235His pride, his riot, all that may
be nam'd,
236Time may recall, and all his madne
sse tam'd.
237Enter Sir Lancelot, Master Weathercock, Daffidill, 238Artichoak, Luce, and Frank. 239Lance. Sirrha
Artichoak, get you home before,
240And as you proved your
self a calf in buying,
241Drive home your fellow calfes that you have bought.
242Arti. Yes for
sooth,
shall not my fellow
Daffidill go
244Lance. No,
sir, no, I mu
st have one to wait on me.
245Arti. Daffadill, farewell, good fellow
Daffidill,
246You may
see, mi
stris, I am
set up by the halves,
247n
stead of waiting on you, I am
sent to drive home calves.
248Lance. Ifaith
Frank, I mu
st turn away this
Daffidill,
249He's grown a very fooli
sh sawcy fellow.
250Fran. Indeed-law, father, he was
so
since I had him:
251Before he was wi
se enough, for a fooli
sh serving-man.
252Wea. But what
say you to me, Sir
Lancelot?
253Lan. O, about my daughters, well I will go forward,
254Here's two of them, God
save them: but the third,
255O
she's a
stranger in her cour
se of life,
256She hath refu
sed you, Ma
ster
Weathercock.
257Wea. I by the Rood, Sir
Lancelot, that
she hath,
258But had
she tri'd me,
she
should a found a man of me in
- (deed. 259Lan. Nay be not angry,
sir, at her danial,
260She hath refus'd
seaven of the wor
shipfull'
st and wor
- 261thie
st hou
se-keepers this day in
Kent:
262Indeed
she will not marry I
suppo
se.
263Wea. The more fool
she.
264Lance. What is it folly to love Charity?
265Wea. No, mi
stake me not, Sir
Lancelot,
266But 'tis an old proverb, and you know it well,
267That women dying maids, lead apes in hell.
268Lance. That's a fooli
sh proverb, and a fal
se.
269Wea. By the mass, I think it be, and therefore let it go:
270But who
shall marry with Mi
stris
Frances?
271Fran. By my troth they are talking of marrying me,
(sister. 272Luce. Peace, let them talk:
273Fools may have leave to prattle as they walk.
274Daff. Sente
sses
still,
sweet Mi
stris,
275You have a wit, and it were your Allabla
ster.
276Luce. Ifaith and thy tongue trips trench-more.
277Lance. No of my Knight-hood, not a
suter yet:
278Alas God help her,
silly girle, a fool, a very fool:
279But there's the other black-brows a
shrewd girle,
280She hath wit at will, and
suters two or three:
281Sir
Arthur Green-
sheld one, a gallant Knight,
282A valiant Souldier, but his power but poor.
283Then there's young
Oliver, the
Devon-
shire lad,
284A wary fellow, marry full of wit,
285And rich by the Rood, but there's a third all aire,
286Light as a feather, changing as the wind: young
Flower- (dale. 287Wea. O he,
sir, he's a de
sperate dick indeed.
289Lance. Fye, not
so, he's of good parentage.
290Wea. By my faie and
so he is, and a proper man.
291Lance. I proper enough, had he good qualities.
292Wea. I marry, there's the point, Sir
Lancelot:
293For there's an old
saying,
294Be he rich, or be he poor,
295Be he high, or be he low:
296Be he born in Barn or Hall,
297'Tis manners makes the man and all.
298Lance. You are in the right, Ma
ster
Weathercock.
299Enter Mounsieur Civet. 300Civet. Soul, I think I am
sure cro
ssed,
301Or witcht with an owle, I have haunted them, Inne after
302Inne, Booth after Booth, yet cannot
find them; ha, yon
- 303der they are, that's
she, I hope to God 'tis
she, nay I
304know 'tis
she now, for
she treads her
shooe a little awry.
305Lance. Where is this Inne? we are pa
st it,
Daffidill.
306Daff. The good
signe is here,
sir, but the black gate is
308Civet. Save you,
sir, I pray may I borrow a piece of
311Civ. Why then the whole.
312I pray,
sir, what may yonder Gentlewomen be?
313Daf. They may be Ladies,
sir, if the de
stinies and mor
- 315Civ. What's her name,
sir.
316Daff. Mi
stris
Frances Spurcock, Sir
Lancelot Spur- 318Civ. Is
she a maid,
sir?
319Daff. You may a
sk
Pluto, and dame
Proserpine that:
320I would be loth to be ridelled,
sir.
321Civ. Is
she married I mean,
sir?
322Daff. The Fates know not yet what
shooe-maker
323shall make her wedding
shooes.
324Civ. I pray where Inne you
sir? I would be very
325glad to be
stow the wine of that Gentlewoman.
326Daff. At the
George,
sir.
327Civ. God
save you,
sir.
328Daff. I pray your name,
sir?
329Civ. My name is Ma
ster
Civet,
sir.
330Daff. A
sweet name, God be with you, good Ma
ster
332Lance. A, have we
spi'd you
stout
S.
George?
333For all your dragon, you had be
st sell's good wine:
334That needs no Ivy-bu
sh: well, we'll not
sit by it,
335As you do on your hor
se, this room
shall
serve:
336Drawer, let me have
sack for us old men:
337For the
se girls and knaves
small wines are be
st.
338A pinte of Sack, no more.
339Draw. A quart of Sack in the three Tuns,
340Lance. A pinte, draw but a pinte,
Daffidill,
341Call for wine to make your
selves drink.
342Fran. And a cup of
small beer, & a cake, good
Daffidill.
343Enter young Flowerdale. 344Flow. How now,
fie,
sit in the open room, now good
345Sir
Lancelot, and my kind friend, wor
shipfull Ma
ster
347What at your pinte, a quart for
shame.
348Lan. Nay Roy
ster, by your leave we will away.
349Flow. Come, give's
some Mu
sick, we'll go dance,
350Be gone Sir
Lancelot, what, and fair day too?
351Lan. 'Twere fouly done, to dance within the fayr.
352Flow. Nay if you
say
so, faire
st of all faires,
353Then I'le not dance, a pox upon my Taylor,
354He hath
spoyl'd me a peach-colour
sattin
sute,
355Cut upon cloth of
silver, but if ever the Ra
scal
serve me
356such another trick, I'le give him leave, ifaith, to put me
357in the calender of fools: and you, and you, Sir
Lancelot;
358and Ma
ster
Weathercock, my gold-
smith too on tother
359side, I be
spoke thee,
Luce, a carkenet of gold, and thought