LANCELOT. Why, sir, suppose he be to you in debt Ten thousand pound, his state to me appears, To be at least three thousand a year. UNCLE. O sir, I was too late informed of that plot, How that he went about to cozen you: And formed a will, and sent it To your good friend here, Master Weathercock, In which was nothing true, but brags and lies. LANCELOT. Ha, hath he not such Lordships, lands, and ships? UNCLE. Not worth a groat, not worth a halfpenny, he. LANCELOT. I pray, tell us true, be plain, young Flowerdale? FLOWERDALE. My uncle here’s mad, and disposed to do my wrong, but here’s my man, an honest fellow, by the lord, and of good credit, knows all is true. FATHER. Not I, sir. I am too old to lie, I rather know You forged a will, where every line you writ, You studied where to coat your lands might lie. WEATHERCOCK. And I prithee, where be they, honest friend? FATHER. Yfaith, no where, sir, for he hath none at all. WEATHERCOCK. Benedicite, we are o’er wretched, I believe. LANCELOT. I am cozened, and my hopefulst child undone. FLOWERDALE. You are not cozened, nor is she undone. They slander me, by this light they slander me: Look you, my uncle here’s an usurer, and would undo me, but I’ll stand in law; do you but bail me, you shall do no more: you, brother Civet, and Master Weathercock, do but bail me, and let me have my marriage money paid me, and we’ll ride down, and there your own eyes shall see, how my poor tenants there will welcome me. You shall but bail me, you shall do no more, and, you greedy gnat, their bail will serve. UNCLE. Aye, sir, I’ll ask no better bail. LANCELOT. No, sir, you shall not take my bail, nor his, Nor my son Civet’s; I’ll not deal with him: Let’s Uncle make false dice with his false bones, I will not have to do with him: mocked, gulled, & wronged! Come, girl, though it be late, it falls out well, Thou shalt not live with him in beggar’s hell. LUCY. He is my husband, & high heaven doth know, With what unwillingness I went to Church. But you enforced me, you compelled me to it: The holy Church-man pronounced these words but now: I must not leave my husband in distress, Now I must comfort him, not go with you. LANCELOT. Comfort a cozener? on my curse, forsake him. LUCY. This day you caused me on your curse to take him: Do not, I pray, my grieved soul oppress, God knows my heart doth bleed at his distress. LANCELOT. O Master Weathercock, I must confess I forced her to this match, Led with opinion his false will was true. WEATHERCOCK. Aye, he hath over-reached me too. LANCELOT. She might have lived like Delia, in a happy virgin’s state. DELIA. Father, be patient, sorrow comes too late. LANCELOT. And on her knees she begged & did entreat, If she must needs taste a sad marriage life, She craved to be Sir Arthur Greenshood’s wife. ARTHUR. You have done her & me the greater wrong. LANCELOT. O, take her yet. ARTHUR. Not I. LANCELOT. Or, Master Oliver, accept my child, And half my wealth is yours.