WIL. Thanks, my good coz. LORD. You have been welcome in your country Yorkshire? SCAR. The time that I spent there, my lord, was merry. LORD. 'Twas well, 'twas very well! and in your absence Your uncle here and I have been bethinking, What gift 'twixt us we might bestow on you, That to your house large dignity might bring, With fair increase, as from a crystal spring. _Enter_ DOCTOR _and_ KATHERINE. SCAR. My name is bound to your benificence, Your hands have been to me like bounty's purse, Never shut up, yourself my foster nurse: Nothing can from your honour come, prove me so rude, But I'll accept, to shun ingratitude. LORD. We accept thy promise, now return thee this, A virtuous wife: accept her with a kiss. SCAR. My honourable lord! LORD. Fear not to take her, man: she will fear neither, Do what thou canst, being both abed together. SCAR. O, but my lord-- LORD. But me? dog of wax! come kiss, and agree, Your friends have thought it fit, and it must be. SCAR. I have no hands to take her to my wife. LORD. How, sauce-box? SCAR. O, pardon me, my lord; the unripeness of my years, Too green for government, is old in fears To undertake that charge. LORD. Sir, sir, and sir knave, then here is a mellowed experience knows how to teach you. SCAR. O God. LORD. O Jack, Have[355] both our cares, your uncle and myself, Sought, studied, found out, and for your good, A maid, a niece of mine, both fair and chaste; And must we stand at your discretion? SCAR. O good my lord, Had I two souls, then might I have two wives: Had I two faiths, then had I one for her; Having of both but one, that one is given To Sir John Harcop's daughter. LORD. Ha, ha! what's that? let me hear that again. SCAR. To Sir John Harcop's Clare I have made an oath: Part me in twain, yet she's one-half of both. This hand the which I wear, it is half hers: Such power hath faith and troth 'twixt couples young, Death only cuts that knot tied with the tongue. LORD. And have you knit that knot, sir? SCAR. I have done so much that, if I wed not her, My marriage makes me an adulterer: In which black sheets I wallow all my life, My babes being bastards, and a whore my wife. _Enter_ SECRETARY. LORD. Ha, is't even so? my secretary there, Write me a letter straight to Sir John Harcop, I'll see, sir Jack, and if that Harcop dare, Being my ward, contract you to his daughter. [_Exit_ SECRETARY. _Enter_ STEWARD. My steward too, post you to Yorkshire, Where lies my youngster's land; and, sirrah, Fell me his wood, make havoc, spoil and waste. [_Exit_ STEWARD. Sir, you shall know that you are ward to me, I'll make you poor enough: then mend yourself. WIL. O cousin! SCAR. O uncle! LORD. Contract yourself, and where you list? I'll make you know me, sir, to be your guard. SCAR. World, now thou seest what 'tis to be a ward.