2nd Luce. [_Aside_.] Here’s one saith nay to that. Old Chartley. Was that your journey? Young Chartley. Why,[4.60] I have too much Grace already. Boyster. Thou hast no grace at all. Young Chartley. Nay, let’s to bed; if thou couldst but imagine how I love thee, Luce! Luce. How is it possible you can love me, and go about to marry another? Young Chartley. Dost thou not know she’s rich? Why, you fool, as soon as I have got her dower, it is but giving her a dram, or a pill to purge melancholy, to make her turn up her heels, and then with all that wealth come I to live with thee, my sweet rascal. Gratiana. [_Coming from the inner room_.] She thanks you, and is much beholding to you. Young Chartley. I am betrayed! Gratiana. Art thou my suitor? wouldst thou marry me, And thy first wife alive? then poison me, To purchase my poor dower? Young Chartley. What shall I say, or think, or do? I am at a nonplus. Gratiana. Hast thou the face, thou brazen impudence, To look upon me?--past grace! Young Chartley. Thou canst not properly call me past Grace, for I never enjoyed thee yet. I cannot tell whether I blush or no, but I have now at this time more Grace than I can tell what to do with. Gratiana. Who drew thee to this folly? Young Chartley. Who but the old dotard thy father, who when I was honestly married to a civil maid, he persuaded me to leave her? I was loth at first, but after entreating, urging, and offering me large proffers, I must confess I was seduced to come a-wooing to thee. Gratiana. My father, villain! Young Chartley. Ay, thy father, Grace. And were he here would justify it to the old dotard’s face. _Enter_ Sir Harry. Sir Harry. Vile boy, thou dar’st not be so impudent! When did I meet thee, seek or sue to thee? When? Name the day, the month, the hour, the year. Young Chartley. Plots, plots! I can but cry you mercy both. Say that I have done you wrong, I can be but sorry for it. But, indeed, to clear you, and lay the fault where it ought to be, all this comes from mine own father in the country, who hearing I had married with Luce, sends me word, of his blessing,[4.61] to be divorced from her, and to come a suitor to your daughter. I think you have his hand and seal to show. _Enter_ Old Chartley. Old Chartley. My hand and seal! When was that letter writ? Young Chartley. Heyday, if you get one word more of me to-night but scurvy looks, I’ll give you leave to hang me. Sir Harry. Vile boy! Old Chartley. Ungracious villain! Gratiana. Treacherous youth! Sir Harry. No grace at all! Young Chartley. No Grace. Old Chartley. This is bad company who hath seduced thee! Speak, on my blessing, who hath thus misled thee? But no more lies, I charge thee.