_Laun._ Did she ne'r beat ye before, Sir? _Seb._ Why dost thou follow me? Thou Rascal, Slave, hast thou not twice abus'd me? Hast thou not spoil'd the Boy? by thine own Covenant, Wouldst thou not now be hang'd? _Laun._ I think I would, Sir, But you are so impatient; does not this shew, Sir, (I do beseech ye speak, and speak with judgment, And let the case be equally consider'd) Far braver in your Daughter? in a Son now, 'Tis nothing, of no mark; every man does it, But to beget a Daughter, a man maiden, That reaches at these high exploits, is admirable; Nay, she goes far beyond him; for when durst he, But when he was drunk, do any thing to speak of? This is _Sebastian_ truly. _Seb._ Thou sayest right, _Launce_, And there's my hand once more. _Thom._ Not without Marriage. _Seb._ Didst thou hear that? _Laun._ I think she spoke of Marriage. _Seb._ And he shall marry her, for it seems she likes him, And their first Boy shall be my heir. _Laun._ I, marry, Now ye go right to work. _Thom._ Fye, fie, Sir, Now I have promis'd ye this night to marry, Would ye be so intemperate? are ye a Gentleman? _Hyl._ I have no maw to marriage, yet this Rascal Tempts me extreamly: will ye marry presently? _Thom._ Get you afore, and stay me at the Chapel, Close by the Nunnery, there you shall find a night Priest, Little Sir _Hugh_, and he can say the Matrimony Over without Book, for we must have no company, Nor light, for fear my Father know, which must not yet be; And then to morrow night. _Hyl._ Nothing to night, Sweet? _Thom._ No, not a bit, I am sent of business, About my dowry, Sweet, do not spoil all now, 'Tis of much haste: I can scarce stay the marriage, Now if you love me, get you gone. _Hyl._ You'll follow? _Thom._ Within this hour, my sweet Chick. _Hyl._ Kiss. _Thom._ A Rope kiss ye, Come, come, I stand o' thorns. _Hyl._ Methinks her mouth still Is monstrous rough, but they have ways to mend it, Farewel. _Thom._ Farewel, I'll fit ye with a wife, Sir. _Seb._ Come, follow close, I'll see the end she aims at, And if he be a handsome fellow, _Launcelot_, _Fiat_, 'tis done, and all my 'state is setled. [_Exeunt._ SCENE III. _Enter Abbess_, Cellide, _and Nuns_. _Ab._ Come to your Mattins Maids; these early hours My gentle Daughter, will disturb a while Your fair eyes, nurtur'd in ease.