LANCELOT. Your bond, sir? why, what are you? FATHER. One whose word in London, though I say it, Will pass there for as much as yours. LANCELOT. Wert not thou late that unthrift’s serving-man? FATHER. Look on me better, now my scar is off. Ne’er muse, man, at this metamorphosis. LANCELOT. Master Flowerdale! FLOWERDALE. My father! O, I shame to look on him. Pardon, dear father, the follies that are past. FATHER. Son, son, I do, and joy at this thy change, And applaud thy fortune in this virtuous maid, Whom heaven hath sent to thee to save thy soul LUCY. This addeth joy to joy, high heaven be praised. FATHER. I caused that rumour to be spread myself, Because I’d see the humours of my son, Which to relate the circumstance is needless: And, sirrah, see you run no more into That same disease: For he that’s once cured of that malady, Of Riot, Swearing, Drunkenness, and Pride, And falls again into the like distress, That fever is deadly, doth till death endure: Such men die mad as of a callenture. FLOWERDALE. Heaven helping me, I’ll hate the course as hell. UNCLE. Say it and do it, cousin, all is well. LANCELOT. Well, being in hope you’ll prove an honest man, I take you to my favour. Brother Flowerdale, Welcome with all my heart: I see your care Hath brought these acts to this conclusion, And I am glad of it: come, let’s in and feast. OLIVER. Nay, zoft you awhile: you promised to make Sir Arthur and me amends. Here is your wisest daughter; see which ans she’ll have. LANCELOT. A God’s name, you have my good will, get hers. OLIVER. How say you then, damsel, tyters hate? DELIA. I, sir, am yours. OLIVER. Why, then, send for a Vicar, and chil have it dispatched in a trice, so chill. DELIA. Pardon me, sir, I mean I am yours, In love, in duty, and affection, But not to love as wife: shall ne’er be said, Delia was buried married, but a maid. ARTHUR. Do not condemn yourself forever, Virtuous fair, you were born to love. OLIVER. Why, you say true, Sir Arthur, she was ybere to it so well as her mother: but I pray you shew us some zamples or reasons why you will not marry. DELIA. Not that I do condemn a married life, For tis no doubt a sanctimonious thing: But for the care and crosses of a wife, The trouble in that world that children bring; My vow is in heaven in earth to live alone, Husbands, howsoever good, I will have none. OLIVER. Why, then che will live Bachelor too. Che zet not a vig by a wife, if a wife zet not a vig by me. Come, shalls go to dinner? FATHER. Tomorrow I crave your companies in Mark-lane: Tonight we’ll frolic in Master Civet’s house, And to each health drink down a full carouse. FINIS