PHIL. And there you may whore by authority. But, Clerimont, I doubt this paragon That thou so praisest is some ill-favoured wench Whom thou wouldst have me laugh'd at for commending. CLER. Believe it, I spoke in earnest: trust your eyes: I'll show you her. PHIL. How canst thou do it? Thou know'st this lady's father is to mine A deadly enemy; nor is his house Open to any of our kindred. CLER. That's no matter: My lodging's the next door to this lord's house, And my back-window looks into his garden; There every morning fair Leucothoë (For so I hear her nam'd) walking alone To please her senses, makes Aurora blush, To see one brighter than herself appear. PHIL. Well, I will see her then. [_Exeunt._ _Enter_ FRANKLIN, FRANCISCO, _and_ LUCE _gravida_.[420] FRANC. Yet for her sake be advis'd better, sir. FRANK. Impudent rascal! canst look me i' th' face, And know how thou hast wronged me? Thou Hast dishonour'd my daughter--made a whore of her. FRANC. Gentle sir, The wrong my love has made to your fair daughter 'Tis now too late to wish undone again: But, if you please, it may be yet clos'd up Without dishonour: I wi FRANK. Impudent rascal! canst look me i' th' face, And know how thou hast wronged me? Thou Hast dishonour'd my daughter--made a whore of her. FRANC. Gentle sir, The wrong my love has made to your fair daughter 'Tis now too late to wish undone again: But, if you please, it may be yet clos'd up Without dishonour: I will marry her. FRANK. Marry her! she has a hot catch of that. Marry a beggar! What jointure canst thou make her? FRANC. Sir, I am poor, I must confess; Fortune has bless'd you better: but I swear By all things that can bind, 'twas not your wealth Was the foundation of my true-built love; It was her single uncompounded self-- Herself without addition--that I lov'd, Which shall for ever in my sight outweigh All other women's fortunes and themselves; And were I great, as great as I could wish Myself for her advancement, no such bar As fortune's inequality should stand Betwixt our loves. LUCE. Good father, hear me. FRANK. Dost thou not blush to call me father, strumpet? I'll make thee an example. LUCE. But hear me, sir; my shame will be your own. FRANK. No more, I say. Francisco, leave my house; I charge you, come not here. FRANC. I must obey, and will. Dear Luce, be constant. LUCE. Till death. [_Exit_ FRANCISCO. FRANK. Here's a fine wedding towards! The bridegroom, when he comes for his bride, shall find her great with child by another man! Passion-a-me, minion, how have you hid it so long? LUCE. Fearing your anger, sir, I strove to hide it.