FRAN. Father, as matter that befits a friend, But yet not me, that am too young to marry. MR GOUR. Nay, if thy mind be forward with thy years, The time is lost thou tarriest. Trust me, boy, This match is answerable to thy birth; Her blood and portion give each other grace; These indented lines promise a sum, And I do like the value: if it hap Thy liking to accord to my consent, It is a match. Wilt thou go see the maid? FRAN. Ne'er trust me, father, the shackles[289] of marriage, Which I do see in others, seem so severe, I dare not put my youngling liberty Under the awe of that instruction; And yet I grant the limits of free youth Going astray are often restrain'd by that. But mistress wedlock, to my scholar-thoughts, Will be too curs'd, I fear: O, should she snip My pleasure-aiming mind, I shall be sad, And swear, when I did marry, I was mad! MR GOUR. But, boy, let my experience teach thee this-- Yet, in good faith, thou speak'st not much amiss-- When first thy mother's fame to me did come, Thy grandsire thus then came to me his son, And even my words to thee to me he said, And as to me thou say'st to him I said, But in a greater huff and hotter blood,-- I tell ye, on youth's tip-toes then I stood: Says he (good faith, this was his very say), "When I was young, I was but reason's fool, And went to wedding as to wisdom's school; It taught me much, and much I did forget, But, beaten much, by it I got some wit; Though I was shackled from an often scout, Yet I would wanton it, when I was out; 'Twas comfort old acquaintance then to meet, Restrained liberty attain'd is sweet." Thus said my father to thy father[290], son, And thou mayst do this too, as I have done. PHIL. In faith, good counsel, Frank: what say'st thou to it? FRAN. Philip, what should I say? PHIL. Why, either ay or no. FRAN. O, but which rather? PHIL. Why, that which was persuaded by thy father. FRAN. That's ay then[291]. Ay. O, should it fall out ill, Then I, for I am guilty of that ill!-- I'll not be guilty. No. PHIL. What, backward gone! FRAN. Philip, no whit backward; that is, on. PHIL. On, then. FRAN. O, stay! PHIL. Tush, there is no good luck in this delay. Come, come; late-comers, man, are shent. FRAN. Heigho, I fear I shall repent! Well, which way, Philip[292]? PHIL. Why, this way. FRAN. Canst thou tell, And takest upon thee to be my guide to hell?-- But which way, father? MR GOUR. That way.