OLD LUSAM

Nay I think so, I never looked for better; This 'tis to marry children when they are young, I said as much at first, that such young brats Would gree together, even Like dogs and cats. You say true, there was great hope indeed They would have lived Like Saints, but where the fault? Would say you so, bithmasse 'tis Like enough, For from her childhood she hath be a shrow. Before God you say well, she is so indeed. The City does admire her for these virtues. I so I say, I did not mean admired. Are you advised of that, I cannot tell What 'tis you call the wonder of her sex, But she is, is she, I indeed she is. Even what you will, you know best what she is. I think so too. I think so too. I 'tis best, 'tis best in sooth: theres no way but to go. Before God 'tis true, Our going may perhaps breed more debate, And then we may too late wish we had stayed: And therefore if you will be ruled by me, We will not go that's flat: Nay if we love Our credits, or our quiets, lets not go. Welfare a good heart, yet are you advise, Go said you M. Arthur, I will run, To end these broils that discord hath begun. In quotha, do you make a doubt of that? Shall we come thus far, and in such post hast, And have our children here and both within, And not behold them ere our back return? It were unfriendly, and unfatherly: Come M. Arthur, pray you follow me. Is't best to knock? It well you put it in mind to knock, I had forgotten it else I promise you. Knock at our children's doors, that were a Jest, Are we such fools to make our selves so strange Where we should still be boldest? In for shame. We will not stand upon such ceremonies. A knave, I marry, and and arrant knave: And sirrah, by old M. Arthurs leave, Though I be weak and old, I'll prove thee one. Speak M. Arthur, is he not a knave? Then so say I. And honest man. Nay if you say so, I'll not be against it; But sir you might have used my daughter better, Then to have Beatrice her, spurned her, railed at her Before our faces. I marry did he, I will stand to it, To use my honest daughter in such sort, He showed himself no better then a knave. I grant sir that you are and honest man, Nor will I say unto the country. But wherefore do you use my daughter thus? Can you accuse her of inchastity, Of lose demeanour, disobedience, or disloyalty? Speak what thou canst thou object against my daughter. And it shall skathe him somewhat of my purse, And daughter I will take thee home again, Since thus he hates thy fellowship, Be such and eyesore to his sighed no more, I tell thee thou no more shalt trouble him. Faith so could I. Faith so will I. Weeps M. Arthur, nay then let me cry: His cheeks shall not be wet, and mine be dry. I marry does it sir concern us near: Would God sir you would take some order for it. How, know not I? Well I know somewhat, though I know not that, Then on I pray you. Well he knows somewhat, forward M. Arthur. Well I was somewhere, forward M. Arthur. Well you tucht somewhat: forward M. Arthur. Oh I knew him well. I am sure I know one Thomas, forward sir. Here is dry Justice not to bid us drink, Hark thee my friend, I pretheelend thy cup: Now M. Justice hear me but one word, You think this woman hath had little wrong? But by this wine which I intend to drink. Content you, I may take a lawful oath Before a Justice: therefore by this wine. My daughter hath been wronged exceedingly. Marry Gods blessing on your heart for that, Daughter give ear to Justice Reasons words. Good counsel, passing good instruction, Follow it daughter. Now I promise you, I have not herd such and Oration This many a day: what remains to do? What say mine eyes, is Justice Reason here? Mountains may meet, and so I see may we. Truly you say true: And M. Justice Reason speaks but reason. To hear how wisely men of law will speak. I by my faith you should. Faith daughter so thou art exceeding sad: Good, good indeed, the best that ere I herd. Forward, I pray forward sir. Am I a bloodsucker or Cannibal? Am I a tyrant that do thirst for blood? I if I seek the ruin of thy son I am indeed. Meet thee with my sword & buckler, theres my glove, I'll meet thee to revenge my daughters death. Callest thou me dotard, though these threescore years, I never handled weapon but a knife To cut my meat, yet will I meet thee there. Gods precious call me dotard. Nay thats another matter have you cause, Then God forbid that I should take exceptions To be called dotard of one that hath cause. And 'tis my wench whom I supposed was dead, My joy revives, and my sad woe is fled. Discourse it daughter. You say true M. Arthur, 'tis so indeed. How go in, how say you sir? I sir, say you so, so say I too. How say you sir? I, in the last words? would, would, would, It was and excellent admired jest, To them that understood it. Glad quotha, theres not one amongst us, But may be exceeding glad. Nay so we do, I'll give you thanks for all. Come M. Justice, you do walk our way, And M. Arthur, and old Hugh your man, Weel be the first will strain courtesy. My daughter. As Master Arthur says, so say I, If grief would let me, I would weeping die, To be thus hapless in my aged years, Oh I would speak, but my words melt to tears. I come for justice, as a father should, That hath by violent murder lost his daughter. Good M. Justice think upon my daughter. He robbed me of my daughter, my only daughter. Villain, thou meanest my only daughter, And in her death deprivedst me of all joys. Nay if he kneeling do confess the deed, No reason but I should forgive her death. What my daughter? Mass you say well sir, & so say I too. 'Tis true sir, I was there the selfsame time, And I remember many of the words. I would not for angel lose the Jest.