Young Chartley. Bad company hath been the shame of me. I was as virtuously given as any youth in Europe, till I fell into one Boyster’s company; ’tis he that hath done all the harm upon me. Boyster. [_Aside_.] I! Old Chartley. And if he should deny it? _Enter_ Boyster. Boyster. What then? you’d cry him mercy. Young Chartley. I had best bite out my tongue, and speak no more. What shall I do, or what shall I say? There is no outfacing them all. Gentlemen, fathers, wives, or what else, I have wronged you all. I confess it that I have--what would you more? Will any of you rail of me? I’ll bear it. Will any of you beat me? So they strike not too hard, I’ll suffer it. Will any of you challenge me? I’ll answer it. What would you have me say or do? One of these I have married, the other I have betrothed, yet both maids for me. Will you have me take one, and leave the tother? I will. Will you have me keep them both? I will. _Enter_ Luce’s Father. Luce’s Father. Perjured! not mine. Young Chartley. What, you here too? Nay, then, I see all my good friends are met together. Wilt thou have me, Luce? I am thy husband, and had I not loved thee better than Grace, I had not disappointed the marriage day to-morrow. Luce. Lascivious! no. Young Chartley. Wilt thou have me, Grace?--for had I not loved thee better than Luce, I would never after I had married her been contracted to thee. Gratiana. Inconstant! no. Young Chartley. Then, neither married man, widower, nor bachelor, what’s to be done? Here’s even the proverb verified--between two stools, the tail goes to ground. Sir Harry. Now I bethink me, this our meeting here is wondrous strange. Call in the gentlewoman that owns this house. _Enter_ Sencer _no longer disguised, and the_ Wise-woman. Boyster. Old trot, I’ll trounce thee. Here is the marriage proved ’twixt Luce and Chartley: Witch, this was not your promise. Wise-woman. Have patience, and in the end we’ll pay you all. Your worships are most heartily welcome. I made bold to send for you, and you may see to what end, which was to discover unto you the wild vagaries of this wanton wag-pasty--a wild oats I warrant him--and, Sir Harry, that your daughter hath scaped this scouring, thank this gentleman, and then make of him as he deserves. Sir Harry. Oh, I remember him. Gratiana. He never pleased mine eye so well as now. I know his love, and he in Chartley’s place My favour shall possess. Sencer. Thanks, my sweet Grace. Sir Harry. Ay, and the more the inconstant youth to spite, Sencer, I give her thee in Chartley’s sight. Young Chartley. There’s one gone already; but this is my wife, and her I’ll keep in spite both of the devil and his dam. Wise-woman. Not from her lawful husband! Young Chartley. That am I.