ACT TWO
2.1*
[Enter] OLIVER [and] AMBROSE.*

177OliverAnd why this gullery† to me, good Ambrose?

178AmbroseI swear I am serious, and you may believe it.

179OliverWhat, that there can be in the world an ass†
        (Wert thou a fool to credit it) that would keep
        A house, by way of public ordinary,†
        For fashionable guests and curious† stomachs,
        The daintiest palates, with rich wine and cheer,†
        And all for nothing, but all’s paid and welcome?*

180AmbroseVal Dryground told it me, whose truth† deserves
        So well my credit,† that prove you it false
        I’ll pay all ord’naries and tavern† reckonings†
        You shall be at this twel’† month.

181OliverI have heard
        Of all the mockeries,* the ape, the ram, the horns,
        The goat, and such tame† monsters, whom poor wits
        Have sent wise tradesmen to, as to a knight,
        A lord, or foreign prince, to be his mercer,†
        His tailor, sempster,† milliner,† or barber,*
        When those that have been mocked still sent their neighbours,*
        Till half the city have been* fool-found.* Ha!
        Is’t not some such poor trick?†

182AmbroseHere comes my author.†
Enter VALENTINE.

183OliverOh, Master Bridegroom, that stole the wealthy match!† How got you loose so soon? I thought you had been tied up by the loins,† like a monkey,** to the bed-post, for a fortnight at the least. How does old Bumpsey, that free-cost† drunkard, thy mad father-in-law, take thy stol’n† marriage? I am sure he knows on’t.†

184ValentineHe found ’s abed last night, i’th’ nick,†* as we say. But we are pieced† this morning.

185AmbroseThen he wrangled† it out of† himself. I know his singular† humour.†

186OliverWhat has he gi’n† thee?

187ValentineHalf of all he has.

188AmbroseHow?

189ValentineOn this condition, that if I save
        That half until he dies, the rest is mine too.

190OliverWhat if thou spend’st thy half?

191ValentineHe’ll spend the t’other,† and the same way, he swears.

192OliverHe’ll ne’er keep covenant.†

193ValentineI’ll tell you how he runs at waste* already:
        This morning the French tailor* brought a gown home,
        Of the fashion,* for my wife; he bought one
        Straight,† ready-made,† for his old gentlewoman,
        That never wore so rich† in all her life.

194AmbroseO brave† old woman! How will she carry it?†

195ValentineI spoke but of* a coach, and he bespoke† one.

196OliverWonder upon wonder! Nam† was telling one
        Before thou cam’st.

197ValentineWhat the new ord’nary?†

198OliverDost know the man that keeps it?

199ValentineThey call him Osbright.*
        A brave† old blade:† he was the president†
        Of the can-quarrelling† fraternity,†
        Now called the roaring† brotherhood, thirty years since;
        But now grown wondrous civil,† free† and hospitable,†
        Having had something fallen to him,* as it seems.

200OliverThat Osbright has been dead these many years.

201ValentineIt was given out so, but he lived beyond sea*

202OliverThere’s some strange† plot in’t.†

203ValentineO thou politick† Noll!†

204OliverJudge thyself, Val, what can the mystery† be?
        He tells me there’s no gaming,† so no cheating,
        Nor any other by-way† of expense,
        By bawdry,† or so, for privy* profit.

205ValentineSuch a suspicion were a sin. But now
        I will unfold† the riddle to you. This feasting
        Has been but for three days, and for great persons
        That are invited and to be prepared
        To venture† for a prize. This very night
        There will be some great rifling† for some jewel
        Or other rare commodity† they say;
        I cannot name* ’t. ’Tis twenty pound a man.*

206OliverIs not that gaming, prithee?†

207ValentineThat’s to come,
        But, hitherto,† nor dice, nor cards, nor wench†
        Is seen i’th’ house, but his own only daughter.

208OliverOh! Has he daughter there? Mark that, Nam.
        No gaming say’st thou? ’Ods me,† and they play not
        At the old game† of old† there, I dare—*

209ValentineI dare be sworn thou dost ’em wrong.

210OliverShe’s too stale,† is she?
        ’Tis above twenty years since he went over,
        And was reported dead (they say) soon after,
        In France, I take it. But, then, it seems, he lived,
        And got this damsel† there? Is she French-born?

211ValentineYes, she was born and bred there, and can speak
        English but brokenly.† But for French behaviour
        She’s a most complete demoiselle,† and able
        To give instructions to our courtliest† dames.*

212OliverShe must be seen.

213AmbroseBut see who here comes first.
Enter VERMIN [and FIRST] SERVANT.*

214VerminThou hast undone† me, villain.†

215[First] ServantOut, alas!†
        I was as ignorant of the deceit,
        As your own innocent worship† ever was
        Of cozening† any man of land or living.

216VerminWas ever man so cursed in his children!

217Valentine’Tis the wretch† Vermin.

218OliverWhat makes he here, trow,† in the Temple Walks?*

219ValentineWhat should he do elsewhere, when law’s his lechery?*
        The Devil’s itch† dry up his marrow† for’t.†
        He undid† a worthy gentleman I know.

220OliverAye,* Brookall, thrusting† him out of his land.

221AmbroseHe’s fitted† with an heir for’t,† one that can
        Justly inherit nothing but the gallows.*

222OliverWhere’s Brookall’s son? He had a hopeful† one,
        And, at sixteen, a student here i’th’ Temple.*

223ValentineAlas, his father’s fall† has ruined him.
        Mere† want of maint’nance† forced him to service,†
        In which he’s lately travelled into France.

224VerminGo back to the recorder’s;† fetch the warrant.†
        I’ll search the city† and the suburbs† for her.[FIRST] SERVANT [exits].

225[Ambrose]*But Vermin has a daughter may prove good.

226ValentineA good one like enough.† I’ll lay a wager†
        He’s poaching*† ’mong† the trees here for a broker,†
        To match† his daughter to a landed† husband.
        This is their walk.*

227OliverLet’s try if we can fit† him.

228ValentineThou’lt† ne’er endure his breath: it stinks of brimstone.†*

229OliverI’ll take the wind* of him.   [To VERMIN]   You are well met,† sir.
        They say you have a daughter you would match,† sir.

230VerminIt may be I have; it may be not. How then?
        What’s that to you?

231OliverPray† be not angry, sir.
        The worst† of us has land, and may deserve† her.

232VerminPray let me ask you first, if you be not
        The knaves† confederates that stole her from me?

233ValentineIs she stol’n† from you, sir? In troth† I am glad on’t.†*

234[Ambrose]*’Tis the first news we heard on’t.†

235OliverThough I assure you
        We heard none ill today, but very good,
        As that of the new ordinary—†

236[Ambrose]*Then the good success
        This gentleman had lately with a wife—

237ValentineAnd lastly, this you tell us, which but that
        It comes from your own mouth, were e’en† too good
        For our belief, methinks.†

238OliverPray, is it true, sir?
        That your daughter’s gone, lost, or stol’n,† as you say?

239[Ambrose]*May we report† it after† you, good sir?

240VerminWhat are you? I would know.

241ValentineGentlemen, sir.
        That cannot but rejoice at your affliction,†
        And therefore blameless, that desire to hear it.*

242VerminCannot this place, where law is chiefly† studied,
        Relieve† me with so much* as may revenge
        Me on these scorners?† How my slave stays† too!
        Yet I may find a time—*[VERMIN] exit[s].*

243All.Ha, ha, ha!

244OliverLook, look, what thing† is this?
Enter [Sir] AMPHILUS [and] TREBASCO.*

245[Amphilus]*Trebasco, skip-kennel.†

246Trebasco[Replies in Cornish.]*

247[Ambrose]*It* speaks, methinks.†

248OliverYes, and its shadow† answers it in Cornish.

249ValentineI know him: ’tis the wise* western† knight that should
        Have married Vermin’s daughter.

250AmphilusSkip-kennel, you shall turn footman,† now, skip-kennel.†
        I’ll ne’er† keep horse more—†

251TrebascoYou must be footman† then yourself, sir.

252AmphilusNo, nor mare neither.

253TrebascoYou need not, sir, now you be† determined to marry and live here i’ the city altogether.† And truly, sir, she could never ha’† died better, nor been taken from you (as they say) in a better time, so near her journey’s end.

254AmbroseHis mare’s dead, it seems.

255AmphilusWas it well done† of her, dost think, to die today upon the way, when she* had been i’ my purse tomorrow in Smithfield?* Poor fool,† I think she died for† grief I would ha’ sold her.

256Trebasco’Twas unlucky to refuse Reynold Pengutling’s* money for her.

257AmphilusWould I had taken’t† now. And she had not died mine own, ’twould ne’er have grieved me.

258TrebascoPray bear† it, sir, as they say— We are all mortal,* you know, and her time* was come, we must think.

259AmphilusAnd ’t had not been the first loss that e’er† I had in my life, I could ha’ borne it.

260TrebascoAnd grace og† (as they say) it shall not be the last.

261AmphilusI would thou couldst ascertain me that, but mischiefs are tailed† to one another, and I must grieve as well for the what’s to come as the departed.*

262OliverWe will have a bout† with him. Who is departed, sir?

263AmphilusMy mare, my mare sir. ’Twas the prettiest† tit—† But she is gone—

264OliverHow is she gone, sir?

265Trebasco   [To Sir AMPHILUS]   You will not talk to ’em.

266ValentineHow is she gone, I pray, sir?

267TrebascoSir, as it were, because she could go no further.

268ValentineGood angry man, give us leave† to talk with thy master.

269OliverGood sir, a little more of* your mare.

270TrebascoI would you had her all* to do you good,* sir: she lies but a quarter of a mile beyond Brainford.*

271ValentineDid you leave skin and shoes and all† behind, sir?

272TrebascoShoes all behind?* I thought how wise you were.*   [To Sir AMPHILUS]   Come away, master.   [To VALENTINE]   No, while she lived, she never wore but two* behind, sir.

273OliverGramercy,† honest† fellow, thou hast wit in thy anger.

274AmphilusSirrah,† answer not the gentleman so snappishly.†

275TrebascoHow can I choose, when they do nothing but make a fool of your worship before your worship’s face, and your worship perceives† it not.

276ValentineGood sir, fall from your man to your beast again.

277Trebasco   [Aside]   There again, another main† mock!† He would have him fall† from a man to a beast.

278AmphilusGive me the shoon.† Let ’em go, I say; I will have ’em.

279TrebascoPray take ’em then.   [Aside]   He’ll ne’er be wiser.

280AmphilusThese were her shoon, gentlemen, I’ll keep ’em for her sake, that little tit, my little poor gonhelly,† that would have carried me on this little iron* from Penzance* to St Columb* on a day. And that’s a way† would try† a stumbler,† you’ll say, if you know it.

281Valentine’Tis enough. I know you, Sir Amphilus, and have fooled† enough with you. Adieu;† my business† calls me. Gentlemen, will you meet me tonight at the ordinary?†[VALENTINE] exit[s].*

282OliverYes, and perhaps, be there before you too. Come, Ambrose—[OLIVER and AMBROSE exit.]*

283AmphilusOdd† gentlemen, methinks.

284TrebascoWhy did you talk with ’em? What had you to make with* ’em?

285AmphilusTrue, we have other matters† to think on. Your first course,† Trebasco, after we come to our lodging,† shall be to Turnbull* Street, to the cobbler.

286TrebascoYour dog-tutor.

287AmphilusYes, and see how my whelp† proves I put to him last term.†

288TrebascoYes, sir.

289AmphilusAnd know of him what gamesters† came to the ponds nowadays, and what good dogs.

290TrebascoYes, sir.

291AmphilusAnd ask him – dost thou hear? – if he ha’ not done away* his own dog yet, Black Swan with the white foot. If I can but purchase him, and my own whelp prove right,† I will be duke of the ducking-pond.

292TrebascoNever misdoubt,† your whelp’s right, I warrant† you, for why, he could lap before he could well go,* and at ten weeks old he could piss under leg.*

293AmphilusHe was a fine† forward† puppy, true enough. But and that be a sign of short life, and he should peak† away after my mare now— Here, prithee,† take her shoon† again. What should I keep ’em for? They put me too much in mind of mortality.† Do ’em away, make money of ’em, and I’ll convert it* into a dog-collar—
Enter VERMIN [and FIRST] SERVANT.*

294TrebascoI’ll try the market* with ’em.

295VerminThe frumping† jacks† are gone—

296AmphilusSee my aldermanical† father-in-law! How d’ye do sir? I am come. I keep my day,* you see, before I am a citiner† among you. How does my best beloved, I pray, your daughter? You do not speak, methinks.

297VerminAsk you for my daughter? Let me ask you first what was your plot to put me in this fright, to make me trudge† to your inn, whilst knave† your man here— Is not this he?

298[First] ServantI doubt,* sir. He was taller.

299VerminHaving first left a bag of trumpery† with me – stones and old iron* – steals away the baggage.†

300AmphilusThis is abomination!† What inn? And what old iron? I came at* no inn today, nor touch old iron but that with sorrow enough— My poor mare’s shoes; she left me at her sad decease to* Brainford. I had rather ha’† lost the best part of five mark,† iwus.† From whence I came by water, landed here at the Temple, to* leave a letter to* a kinsman’s chamber, now right as sure as can be.* Say,* Trebasco.

301TrebascoHe tells you true.

302AmphilusBut is your daughter gone?

303VerminGone, gone.

304AmphilusAll ill go with her.* Did not I say I should hear of more mischief, and that one was ever tailed† to another?

305TrebascoYou said so indeed, but if she had been tailed to your mare I should have seen her, sure, when I stripped her.*

306VerminThis is the day of my affliction,†
        This day I’ll cross out of my almanac†*
        For ever having anything to do on’t.†

307AmphilusWhy, then, you will not seek her out today?
        Although methinks the day might serve† as well
        To find her, as to lose her, if luck serve.

308[First] Servant.What else did you intend, sir, by the warrant?
        Best lose* no time, sir.

309[Vermin.]*No, no, we’ll go.
Enter BROOKALL.

310BrookallFirst take my execration† with thee, monster.

311VerminHell vomits all her malice† this day on me.

312BrookallHell sends by me this commendation† to thee,
        That thou hast there a most deserved† possession†
        That gapes† to entertain† thee.

313AmphilusWho’s this, a conjurer† that knows hell so?

314[First] ServantNo, but a certain spirit† that my master
        Conjured† out of his land.

315AmphilusIf you can conjure,†
        Here’s money to be got, sir, but to tell us
        What may be now betid of* this man’s daughter?

316BrookallHimself and his posterity† must all
        Sink unavoidably† to hell.

317AmphilusYou are
        Most deeply read!* May not a son-in-law—

318VerminWhy talk you to that railer?†

319AmphilusPray sir, may not
        A son-in-law escape in your opinion?

320BrookallNo sir. It was by law he made the purchase,
        And by his son-in-law, or outlawed, down he must,
        If he set vent’rous† foot, as his inheritor,
        Upon the mould† was got by his oppression.*

321AmphilusPretty† mad reason,† methinks! Where’s that land?

322Vermin   [To BROOKALL]   Sirrah, I’ll tame† thy tongue.

323BrookallNo, wretch,† thou canst not,
        Nor fly† out of the reach of my fell† curses.
        That freedom (being all that thou hast left me)
        Thou canst not rob me of.

324VerminI shall find means,†
        Then, to confine it and yourself in Bedlam.†

325BrookallThou canst not be so just,† sure, to exchange
        Thine own inheritance for mine.*

326AmphilusHave you made
        A purchase there* too, father-’law† that should be?

327VerminHow am I tortured! I will fly† this place.
Enter PHYLLIS, a box* in her hand.

328PhyllisNay, prithee, stay† a little, good old man.
        Give something to my box.

329VerminOut on† thee, baggage.†

330PhyllisA little something, prithee, but a tester.†

331VerminOut, out.

332PhyllisThou* look’st like a good penny-father,†
        A little of thy money would so thrive† here,
        ’Twould† grow, by that* I were ready for a husband,
        Up to a pretty† portion.† Pray thee now—

333VerminWhat canst thou be?

334PhyllisIn sooth† a gentlewoman, but a by-blow;†
        My father is a knight, but must be nameless.*

335VerminCan knights get† beggars?*

336PhyllisWhy not, when such as thou get knights?
        Nay, prithee, prithee now, gi’ me a tester.
        I ne’er† ask less: my mother’s a poor gentlewoman
        And has no means† but what comes through† my fingers,
        And this is all my work. Come, wring† it out.
        Oh, how I love a hard-bound† money-master,†
        Whose count’nance† shows how loath† he is to part with ’t!
        It comes so sweetly† from him, when it comes.
        Nay, when? I pray thee, when? Pish,† make an end.

337AmphilusIt is the prettiest† merry† beggar.*

338VerminHousewife,† I’ll ha’† you whipped.*

339PhyllisAye,* when I beg i’th’ streets.*
        I have allowance† here, as well as any
        Brokers,† projectors,† common bail,* or bankrupts,†
        Panders,† and cheaters† of all sorts, that mix here
        ’Mongst† men of honour, worship,† lands and money.
[As PHYLLIS speaks,] lawyers and others pass over the stage as conferring two by two.*

340AmphilusO rare† beggar-wench!

341PhyllisI come not hither† to entrap or cozen;†
        My work lies plain before me as my way,
        With, ‘will you give me’? Pray thee, hard old man.

342VerminAway, away.

343PhyllisWhat though thou com’st to deal†
        For this man’s land, or sell another’s right,†
        Or else to match thy daughter, if thou hast one
        To this young gentleman—* Thou wilt give me something.

344VerminThe Devil haunts† me.

345AmphilusShe makes a youth of me.

346PhyllisYet I prithee make not
        Thy money such an idol† as to think
        Thou shalt dishonour’t,† or impair† this bargain,
        That match,† or whatsoever thou hast in traffic,†
        By parting with a silly† silver sixpence.
        Shalt not, i’fecks,† la,† shalt not. I’ll strike luck to it;*
        Thy match shall thrive† the better. Look, I have got
        Here four and sixpence; prithee make it a crown.†*
        ’Twill† ne’er be missed in thy dear daughter’s dowry,†
        If (as I said) thou hast one.

347VerminHellish baggage!†

348Phyllis   [To Sir AMPHILUS]   He’ll gi’t† me by and by. I prithee find
        Thy money out the while.*   [To VERMIN]   Come, out with it, man.

349VerminPull her away.
        I fly† thee, as I would the devil that sent thee.

350AmphilusYes, let’s away, ’tis time;* she begs* of me now.

351PhyllisThe Devil is not surer to o’ertake† thee—[All except BROOKALL exit.]*

352BrookallGood child, I thank thee; thou hast somewhat eased
        My pensive† heart by his vexation.†
        She spake† as divination† had inspired her
        With knowledge of my wrongs and his oppression*
        To take my part. Take thou a blessing for’t,†
        Whoe’er† thou art, whilst I recalculate†
        The miseries of a distressèd man,
        Cast† out of all. Unhappy† chance† of law,
        More false† and merciless† than dice* or strumpets,†
        That hast into thy Hydra-throated† maw†
        Gulped up* my life’s* supportance,† left me nothing,
        Not means for one day’s sustenance,† for breath
        To cry† thy cruelty before my death!
        That law, once called sacred, and ordained†
        For safety† and relief† to innocence,†
        Should live to be accursed† in her succession,†
        And now be styled supportress† of oppression,
        Ruin of families, past† the bloody† rage
        Of rape or murder, all the crying† sins
        Negotiating† for hell in her wild† practice.†
Enter ATTORNEY.

353Attorney   [Aside]   A man, I hope, for my purpose, and save me a-going† to the church* for one.   [To BROOKALL]   Will you make an oath,† sir?

354BrookallAn oath? for what?

355AttorneyFor two shillings.* And it be half a crown,* my client shall not stand w’ ye;* the judge is at leisure,* and the other of our bail† *is there already.† Come, go along.

356BrookallI guess you some attorney. Do you know me?

357AttorneyNo, nor any man we employ† in these cases.

358Brookall   [Aside]   He takes me for a common† bail,* a knight o’ th’ post.*
           [To ATTORNEY]   Thou art a villain, and crop-eared* I doubt not.
        What, darest thou say, thou see’st upon me that—

359AttorneyI cry you mercy!* I must up, I see,
        To the old synagogue,* there I shall be fitted—†[ATTORNEY] exit[s].*

360BrookallCan I appear so wretched?† Or can grief
        So soil† the face of poverty, which is virtue,
        To make it seem that monster perjury?†
        Rather let sorrow end me all at once*
        Than virtue be misconstrued† in my looks,
        Which I will hide from such interpretation.†He lies on his face.
Enter FRIENDLY.

361Friendly   [Aside]   Alas, he’s sore† afflicted,† and my news,
        I fear, will strike him dead. Yet I must speak.
           [To BROOKALL]   Sir, give not misery that advantage on* you
        To make* yourself the less by shrinking† under
        The buffetings† of Fortune.

362BrookallI desired you*
        To seek† my son. Ha’ you found him at his chamber?†
        Or has not want of fatherly supplies*
        (Which Heaven knows I am robbed of) thrust† him out
        Of commons,† to the common† world* for succour?†
        Where is he? Have you found him?

363FriendlyNo, not him.
        But I have found what may be comfort to you,
        If you receive it like a man of courage.*

364BrookallHe’s dead, then! Farewell my tender boy!

365FriendlyIndeed, sir, he’s not dead.

366BrookallPhew—

367FriendlyPray, sir, hear me.

368BrookallYou’ll tell me man ne’er dies but changeth life,
        And happily† for a better.* He is happiest
        That goes the right way soonest.* Nature sent us*
        All naked hither,† and all the goods we had
        We only took on credit† with the world.*
        And that the best of men are but mere borrowers,
        Though some take longer day.†** Sir, I know all
        Your arguments of consolation—*

369FriendlyIndeed he is not dead, but lives—

370BrookallIn Heaven,
        I am the surer on’t,† for that he lived
        Not to learn law enough to—* Hush. No more.

371FriendlySubstantially† he lives, in flesh,* as we do.

372BrookallSpeak that again.

373FriendlyA gentleman of the next chamber told me so.
        Only, sir, this: if you can brook† his absence
        Without fear† or mistrust,† then he is well.

374BrookallHow thou play’st with me!*

375FriendlyHe’s gone to travel, sir. Here comes the gentleman.
Enter VALENTINE.

376Valentine   [Aside]   I am sure he does not know me. If he could
        I were as sure this charity would be rejected,
        So much I know his spirit.†   [To BROOKALL]   Is your name Brookall, sir?

377Brook.My losses, wrongs* and sorrows speak my name.

378ValentineYou had a son late† of this house.

379Brookall   [To FRIENDLY]   And do not you infer† by that he’s dead?
           [To VALENTINE]   Good,† do not mock me, sir.

380ValentineIf this be gold,[He produces a purse.]
        He lives and sent it to you: forty pieces.**

381BrookallPray, sir, from whence,† or where, might he achieve†
        So great a sum? Not in this world, I fear.
        A handsome† possibility† he had once,
        Could I ha’† kept it for him.

382ValentineHe’s in a way*
        Now to a hopeful† fortune. A noble gentleman,
        Late† gone to travel, ta’en with good affection*
        Towards your son, has ta’en† him to his care,
        And like a father, not a master, keeps him,
        From whose free† bounty† he received this means.†

383BrookallDo you think the boy did well to send it me, then,
        When ’twas† intended for his master’s honour,
        To fly† in silks and feathers?* ’Tis not servant-like*
        To waive† a master’s meaning so.

384ValentineI had a letter too,
        Though most unhappily† mislaid.

385BrookallWhat, from my boy?

386ValentineIn his own hand.†

387BrookallHa! But mislaid, you say. Ha, ha, ha—*
        What is the gentleman?* Or whither† travelled?

388ValentineThat’s all I crave† excuse for.

389BrookallKeep your money.
        If you can render† me my son, I’ll thank you.

390ValentineYou speak not like a father. Wanting means†
        Yourself for his advancement,† would you bar him*
        The bounty† of another’s full† ability?†

391BrookallI speak more like a father than a beggar,*
        Although no beggar poorer, and I fear
        I am no father.* For I would not give
        My son to gain a province, nor accept*
        This coin to save my life. If he be lost—
        Let me look nearer on* you, sir.

392Friendly   [Aside]   I hope
        He will accept the money. Poverty
        Was ne’er so coy† else.*

393BrookallI cannot remember
        I ever saw this face. But I have seen
        (Many years since) one that it so resembles,
        As I could spit† defiance† on’t—*

394ValentineWhat mean you?*

395BrookallAnd charge thee* with the murther† of my son.

396ValentinePray, sir, collect† yourself.

397BrookallYour name is Valentine.

398ValentineRight, sir.

399BrookallSir Humphrey Dryground’s son.

400ValentineMost true.

401BrookallEven so thy father looked, when at like† years
        He was my rival. For, young man, I tell thee
        Thou hadst a virtuous, well-deserving† mother.
        He won her without loss of my known† friendship,
        But since her death, you cannot but have heard,
        He basely† wronged† my sister and, in her,
        Me, and my family, whored her, and cast her off*
        On the appointed† marriage day.

402ValentineOh, sir!

403BrookallYou cannot but have heard on’t.† Nay, it seems,
        My boy has charged† thee with’t,* before his years*
        Could warrant† his ability in combat,
        And so is fallen; or thou, not daring stand
        Trial in such a cause, by treachery
        Hast cut him off,* and com’st to make thy peace,
        Presuming† on my poverty, with money.
        Worse than the base† attorney’s project† this!

404ValentineThis is mere† madness. In an act so foul
        As your wild† fancy† gathers† this to be
        Who could escape the law?

405BrookallThe law? Ha, ha, ha!
        Talk not to me of law; law’s not my friend.
        Law is as* fatal to me as your house.†
        I have enough of law.   [To FRIENDLY]   Pray stand you off.*
           [To VALENTINE]   Will you, sir, furnish† me but with a sword,
        And bring me to fit† ground to end this difference?†
        Will you do so, and like a gentleman?*

406Valentine   [Aside]   What shall I do for pity?† Now I have it.

407BrookallTalk not to me of law.[He fenceth.*]

408ValentinePray hear me, sir.

409BrookallNow, sir, your will before your end.* Be brief.

410ValentineYou know me for a gentleman, though an enemy—
           [Aside]   I must speak in his phrase—†   [Aloud]   and by that honour
        A gentleman should keep sacred, two hours* hence†
        I’ll meet you in this place—

411Brookall   [To FRIENDLY*]   Pray stand you off—

412ValentineFrom whence† we’ll walk—*

413BrookallSilent, as nothing were— *

414ValentineAs nothing were betwixt† us,* to some other
        Fit ground, as you propounded,† where we’ll end
        The difference.

415BrookallBy the sword, not* otherwise.
        No whinnelling† satisfaction.

416ValentineYou shall see, sir.

417BrookallGo set thy house in order.* Here I’ll meet thee.[They all] exit.

Edited by Lucy Munro