O. MOUN. Nor I for thee, Clare, not of this: What! hast thou fed me all this while with shalls[275] And com'st to tell me now, thou lik'st it not? CLARE. I do not hold thy offer competent: Nor do I like the assurance of thy land, The title is so brangled with thy debts. O. MOUN. Too good for thee: and, knight, thou know'st it well, I fawn'd not on thee for thy goods, not I, 'Twas thine own motion; that thy wife doth know. L. CLARE. Husband, it was so; he lies not in that. CLARE. Hold thy chat, quean. O. MOUN. To which I hearkened willingly, and the rather, Because I was persuaded it proceeded From love thou bor'st to me and to my boy; And gav'st him free access unto thy house. Where he hath not behav'd him to thy child, But as befits a gentleman to do: Nor is my poor distressed state so low, That I'll shut up my doors, I warrant thee. CLARE. Let it suffice, Mounchensey. I mislike it; Nor think thy son a match fit for my child. O. MOUN. I tell thee, Clare, his blood is good and clear, As the best drop that panteth in thy veins: But for this maid, thy fair and virtuous child, She is no more disparag'd by thy baseness, Than the most orient and most[276] precious jewel, Which still retains his lustre and his beauty. Although a slave were owner of the same. CLARE. She is the last is left me to bestow; And her I mean to dedicate to God. O. MOUN. You do, sir? CLARE. Sir, sir, I do; she is mine own. O. MOUN. And pity she is so: Damnation dog thee and thy wretched pelf! [_Aside._ CLARE. Not thou, Mounchensey, shalt bestow my child. O. MOUN. Neither shall'st[277] thou bestow her where thou meanest. CLARE. What wilt thou do? O. MOUN. No matter, let that be; I will do that, perhaps, shall anger thee: Thou hast wrong'd my love, and, by God's blessed angel, Thou shalt well know it. CLARE. Tut, brave not me. O. MOUN. Brave thee, base churl! were't not for manhood sake-- I say no more, but that there be some by Whose blood is hotter than ours is, Which, being stirr'd might make us both repent This foolish meeting. But, Harry Clare, Although thy father hath abus'd my friendship, Yet I love thee--I do, my noble boy, I do, i' faith. L. CLARE. Ay, do, do: fill all the world with talk of us, man; man, I never looked for better at your hands.