228 Or as a Hawk, that never stoop'd to lure:

229The one must be tamed with an iron bit,

230The other must be watch'd, or still she is wild,

231Such is my son, a while let him be so;

232For counsel still is follies deadly foe.

233I'le serve his youth, for youth must have his course,

234For being restrain'd, it makes him ten times worse:

235His pride, his riot, all that may

be nam'd,

236Time may recall, and all his madnesse tam'd.

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 forsooth, shall not my fellow Daffidill go

243along with me.

244Lance. No, sir, no, I must have one to wait on me.

245Arti. Daffadill, farewell, good fellow Daffidill,

246You may see, mistris, I am set up by the halves,

247nstead of waiting on you, I am sent to drive home calves.

248Lance. Ifaith Frank, I must turn away this Daffidill,

249He's grown a very foolish sawcy fellow.

250Fran. Indeed-law, father, he was so since I had him:

251Before he was wise enough, for a foolish 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 course of life,

256She hath refused you, Master Weathercock.

257Wea. I by the Rood, Sir Lancelot, that she hath,

259Lan. Nay be not angry, sir, at her danial,

260She hath refus'd seaven of the worshipfull'st and wor-

261thiest house-keepers this day in Kent:

262Indeed she will not marry I suppose.

263Wea. The more fool she.

264Lance. What is it folly to love Charity?

265Wea. No, mistake 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 foolish proverb, and a false.

269Wea. By the mass, I think it be, and therefore let it go:

270But who shall marry with Mistris Frances?

272Luce. Peace, let them talk:

273Fools may have leave to prattle as they walk.

274Daff. Sentesses still, sweet Mistris,

275You have a wit, and it were your Allablaster.

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,

287Wea. O he, sir, he's a desperate dick indeed.

288Bar him your house.

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, Master Weathercock.

300Civet. Soul, I think I am sure crossed,

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 past it, Daffidill.

306Daff. The good signe is here, sir, but the black gate is

307before.

308Civet. Save you, sir, I pray may I borrow a piece of

309a word with you?

310Daff. No pieces, sir.

311Civ. Why then the whole.

312I pray, sir, what may yonder Gentlewomen be?

313Daf. They may be Ladies, sir, if the destinies and mor-

314tality work.

315Civ. What's her name, sir.

316Daff. Mistris Frances Spurcock, Sir Lancelot Spur-

317cock's daughter.

318Civ. Is she a maid, sir?

319Daff. You may ask 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 bestow 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 Master Civet, sir.

330Daff. A sweet name, God be with you, good Master

332Lance. A, have we spi'd you stout S. George?

333For all your dragon, you had best sell's good wine:

334That needs no Ivy-bush: well, we'll not sit by it,

335As you do on your horse, this room shall serve:

336Drawer, let me have sack for us old men:

337For these girls and knaves small wines are best.

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.

344Flow. How now, fie, sit in the open room, now good

345Sir Lancelot, and my kind friend, worshipfull Master

346Weathercock.

347What at your pinte, a quart for shame.

348Lan. Nay Royster, by your leave we will away.

349Flow. Come, give's some Musick, 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, fairest 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 Rascal 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 Master Weathercock, my gold-smith too on tother

359side, I bespoke thee, Luce, a carkenet of gold, and thought