W. SMALL. What should I do? I've pass'd my word to keep this gentlewoman, Till I can place her to her own content. And what is a gentleman but his word? BOUT. Why, let her go to service. W. SMALL. To service! Why, so she does; she is my laundress,[327] And by this light, no puisne Inn-a-Court But keeps a laundress at his command To do him service; and shall not I, ha? FRAN. Sir, you are his friend (I love him too); Propound a course which may advantage him, And you shall find such real worth in me, That rather than I'll live his hindrance, I will assume the most penurious state The city yields, to give me means of life. W. SMALL. Why, there's it: you hear her what she says; Would not he be damn'd that should forsake her? Says she not well? can you propound a course, To get my forfeit land from yonder rogue: Parcel-lawyer, parcel-devil, all knave, Throat, Throat? BOUT. Not I. W. SMALL. Why, so: I thought as much; You are like our citizens to men in need, Which cry, 'tis pity a proper gentleman Should want money; yet not an usuring slave Will lend him a denier to help his wants. Will you lend me forty shillings? BOUT. I will. W. SMALL. Why, God-a-mercy, there's some goodness in thee: You'll not repent? BOUT. I will not. W. SMALL. With that money I will redeem my forfeit land, and wed My cockatrice to a man of worship-- To a man of worship, by this light! BOUT. But how? W. SMALL. Thus: in Ram-Alley lies a fellow, by name Throat: one that professeth law, but indeed Has neither law nor conscience; a fellow That never saw the bar, but when his life Was call'd in question for a cosenage. The rogue is rich; to him go you, tell him That rich Sir John Sommerfield-- CON. How's that? [_Aside._ W. SMALL. Is lately dead, and that my hopes stand fair To get his only daughter. If I speed,[328] And have but means to steal away the wench, Tell him I reckon him my chiefest friend To entertain us, till our nuptial rites May be accomplish'd: and could you but procure My elder brother meet me on the way, And but associate me unto his house, 'Twere hit, i' faith; I'd give my cunning Throat An honest slit for all his tricks in law. BOUT. Why this shall be perform'd; take; there's my store. To friends all things are common. W. SMALL. Then at the court There are none foes, for all things there are common. [_Aside._ BOUT. I will as carefully perform thy wish, As if my fortunes lay upon th' attempt. W. SMALL. When shall I hear from you? BOUT. Within this hour.