LANCELOT. O here’s his Uncle! welcome, gentlemen, welcome all. Such a cozener, gentlemen, a murderer too, for any thing I know: my daughter is missing: hath been looked for, cannot be found. A vild upon thee. UNCLE. He is my kinsman, although his life be wild; Therefore, in God’s name, do with him what you will. LANCELOT. Marry, to prison. FLOWERDALE. Wherefore to prison? snick up, I owe you nothing. LANCELOT. Bring forth my daughter then: away with him. FLOWERDALE. Go seek your daughter; what do you lay to my charge. LANCELOT. Suspicion of murder: go, away with him. FLOWERDALE. Murder, you dogs? I murder your daughter! Come, Uncle, I know you’ll bail me. UNCLE. Not I, were there no more, than I the Jailor, thou the prisoner. LANCELOT. Go; away with him. [Enter Lucy like a Frau.] LUCY. O my life, here; where will you ha de man? Vat ha de yonker done? WEATHERCOCK. Woman, he hath killed his wife. LUCY. His vife: dat is not good, dat is not seen. LANCELOT. Hang not upon him, huswife; if you do, I’ll lay you by him. LUCY. Have me no oder way dan you have him: He tell me dat he love me heartily. FRANCES. Lead away my maid to prison! why, Tom, will you suffer that? CIVET. No, by your leave, father, she is no vagrant: she is my wife’s chamber maid, & as true as the skin between any man’s brows here. LANCELOT. Go to, you’re both fools: Son Civet, of my life, this is a plot, Some straggling counterfeit preferred to you, No doubt to rob you of your plate and jewels. I’ll have you led away to prison, trull. LUCY. I am no trull, neither outlandish Frau. Nor he, nor I shall to the prison go: Know you me now? nay, never stand amazed. Father, I know I have offended you, And though that duty wills me bend my knees To you in duty and obedience: Yet this ways do I turn, and to him yield My love, my duty and my humbleness. LANCELOT. Bastard in nature! kneel to such a slave? LUCY. O Master Flowerdale, if too much grief Have not stopped up the organs of your voice, Then speak to her that is thy faithful wife: Or doth contempt of me thus tie thy tongue? Turn not away, I am no Aethiope, No wanton Cressida, nor a changing Helen: But rather one made wretched by thy loss. What, turnst thou still from me? O then I guess thee woefulst among hapless men. FLOWERDALE. I am, indeed, wife, wonder among wives! Thy chastity and virtue hath infused Another soul in me, red with defame, For in my blushing cheeks is seen my shame. LANCELOT. Out, hypocrite. I charge thee, trust him not. LUCY. Not trust him? by the hopes of after bliss, I know no sorrow can be compared to his. LANCELOT. Well, since thou wert ordained to beggary, Follow thy fortune; I defy thee, I. OLIVER. Ywood che were so well ydoussed as was ever white cloth in a tocking mill, and che ha not made me weep. FATHER. If he hath any grace, he’ll now repent. ARTHUR. It moves my heart. WEATHERCOCK. By my troth, I must weep, I can not choose. UNCLE. None but a beast would such a maid misuse.