Luce’s Father. If he, he could not but have known me there, Yet he was wondrous like him. Boyster. How cheer you, Luce? whence grew this passion? Luce. Pardon me, sir, I do not know myself: I am apt to swound, and now the fit is passed me. I thank you for your help. Is Master Chartley Vanished so soon? Boyster. Yes; and to supply his place, see where thy father comes. Luce’s Father. He hath not such a suit; besides, this gallant Led by the arm a bride, a lusty bride! How much might I have wronged the gentleman By craving his acquaintance! This it is To have dim eyes. Why looks my daughter sad?-- I cry you mercy, sir; I saw not you. Boyster. I would I had not seen you at this time neither. Farewell. [_Exit_. Luce. If he be gone, then let me vent my grief. Father, I am undone! Luce’s Father. Forbid it, Heaven! Luce. Disgraced, despised, discarded, and cast off. Luce’s Father. How, mine own child? Luce. My husband, O my husband! Luce’s Father. What of him? Luce. Shall I the shower of all my grief at once Pour out before you? Chartley, once my husband, Hath left me to my shame. Him and his bride I met within few minutes. Luce’s Father. Sure ’twas they; I met them too: ’twas he; base villain, Jew! I’ll to the wedding board, and tell him so: I’ll do’t as I am a man. Luce. Be not so rash. Luce’s Father. I’ll live and die upon him; He’s a base fellow, so I’ll prove him too. Joseph, my sword! Luce. This rashness will undo us. Luce’s Father. I’ll have my sword; It hath been twice in France, and once in Spain, With John-a-Gaunt; when I was young like him I had my wards, and foins, and quarter-blows, And knew the way into St. George’s Fields[4.48] Twice in a morning. Tuttle, Finsbury, I knew them all. I’ll to him: where’s my sword? Luce. Or leave this spleen, or you will overthrow Our fortunes quite; let us consult together What we were best to do. Luce’s Father. I’ll make him play at leap-frog! Well, I hear thee. Luce. I cannot prove our marriage; it was secret, And he may find some cavil in the law. Luce’s Father. I’ll to him with no law, but Stafford law.[4.49] I’ll ferret the false boy--nay, on, good Luce. Luce. Part of your spleen if you would change to counsel, We might revenge us better. Luce’s Father. Well, I hear thee. Luce. To claim a public marriage at his hands We want sufficient proof, and then the world Will but deride our folly, and so add Double disgrace unto my former wrong. To law with him--he hath a greater purse, And nobler friends. How then to make it known? Luce’s Father. Is this his damasked kirtle fringed with gold, His black bag, and his beaver? ’Tis well yet I have a sword.