W. SMALL. I dare be sworn she has. O. SMALL. Not so. The foolish knave has been accounted wild, And so have I; but I am now come home, And so will he. FRAN. I must believe it now. W. SMALL. Beg his chain, wench. [Aside. BEARD. Will you cheat your father? W. SMALL. Ay, by this light, will I. O. SMALL. Nay, sigh not; For you shall find him loving and me thankful; And were it not a scandal to my honour To be consenting to my son's attempt, You should unto my house: meanwhile, take this [_To_ FRANCES. As pledge and token of my after-love! [_Gives her a chain._ How long since died your father? FRAN. Some six weeks since------ W. SMALL. We cannot stay to talk, for slaves pursue. I have a house shall lodge us, till the priest May make us sure. O. SMALL. Well, sirrah, love this woman, And when you are man and wife, bring her to me: She shall be welcome. W. SMALL. I humbly thank you, sir. O. SMALL. I must be gone; I must a-wooing too. W. SMALL. Jove and Priapus speed you! You'll return? T. SMALL. Instantly. [_Exeunt_ SIR OLIVER _and_ THOMAS SMALL-SHANKS. W. SMALL. Why, this came cleanly off, Give me the chain, you little cockatrice; Why, this was luck; 'foot! four hundred crowns Got at a clap! hold still your own, you whore, And we shall thrive. BEARD. 'Twas bravely fetch'd about. W. SMALL. Ay, when will your nose and beard perform as much? FRAN. I am glad he is gone; he put me to the blush When he did ask me of rich Sommerfield's death. W. SMALL. And took not I my cue?[354] was't not good? Did I not bring you off, you arrant drab, Without a counter-buff?[355] look who comes here-- [_Sings._] _And three merry men, and three merry men,_ _And three merry men be we-a._[356] _Enter_ BOUTCHER _and_ CONSTANTIA. BOUT. Still in this vein? I have done you service; The lawyer's house will give you entertainment, Bountiful and free. W. SMALL. O my second self! Come, let me buss thy beard, we are all made! Why art so melancholy, dost want money? Look, here's gold, and as we pass along, I'll tell thee how I got it: not a word, But that she's Sommerfield's heir; my brother Swallows it with more ease than a Dutchman Does flap-dragons: he comes; now to my lawyers. _Enter_ THOMAS SMALL-SHANKS. Kiss my wife, good brother; she is a wench Was born to make us all. T. SMALL. I hope no less, You are welcome, sister, into these our parts, As I may say. FRAN. Thanks, gentle brother. W. SMALL. Come now to Ram Alley. There shalt thou lie, Till I provide a priest.