ACT. II. Scene I.
Oliver. Ambroſe.
Ol.ANd why this Gullery to me, good
Ambroſe?
Am.J ſwear J am ſerious, and you
Ol.What, that there can be in the World an Aſſe
(Wert thou a fool to credit it) that would keep
A Houſe, by way of publike Ordinary,
For faſhionable Gueſts, and curious ſtomacks;
The daintieſt Pallats, with rich Wine and Chear;
And all for nothing, but alls paid and welcome?
[B7]Am.
The Damoiſelle.
Am.Vall Dryground told it me, whoſe truth deſerves
So well my credit, that, prove you it falſe,
Ile pay all Ord’naries and Taverne reckonings
You ſhall be at this twel’moneth.
Of all the Mockeries, the Ape, the Ram, the Hornes,
The Goat, and ſuch tame Monſters, whom poor wits
Have ſent wiſe Tradeſmen to, as to a Knight,
A Lord, or forrain Prince; to be his Mercer,
His Taylor, Semſter, Millener, or Barber:
When thoſe, that have been mock’d, ſtill ſent their
Till halfe the City have bee fool-found. Ha!
Iſt not ſome ſuch poor trick?
Am.Here comes my Author.
Enter Valentine.
Ol.O Mr. Bridegroom, that ſtole the wealthy match!
How got you looſe ſo ſoone? J thought you had beene
tyed up by the Loines, like a Monkey to the Bed-poſt,
for a fortnight at the leaſt. How does old
Bumpſey, that
Freecoſt Drunkard, thy mad Father-in-Law, take thy
ſtolne Marriage? I am ſure he knows on’t.
Val.He found’s abed laſt night i’th’ nick, as we ſay.
But we are peec’d this morning.
Am.Then he wrangled it out, of himſelfe. J know
Ol.What has he gi’n thee?
Val.Halfe, of all he has.
Val.On this Condition, that, if J ſave
That halfe untill he dyes, the reſt is mine too.
Ol.What if thou ſpendſt thy halfe?
Val.Heel ſpend the tother; and the ſame way, hee
Ol.Hee’l nere keep Covenant.
Val.Ile tell you how he runs at waſte already,
[B7v]This
The Damoiſelle.
This morning the French Taylor brought a Gowne
Of the faſhion, for my Wife. He bought one
Streight, ready made, for his old Gentlewoman,
That never wore ſo rich in all her life.
Am.O brave old woman! How will ſhee carry it?
Val.I ſpoke but of a Coach, and he beſpoke one.
Ol.Wonder upon wonder!
Nam was telling one
Val.What the new Ordnary?
Ol.Doſt know the man that keeps it?
Val.They call him
Osbright.
A brave old Blade. He was the Preſident
Of the Can-quarrelling Fraternity,
Now calld the Roaring Brotherhood, thirty years ſince,
But now grown wondrous civill, free, and hoſpitable,
Having had ſomething fallen to him, as it ſeemes.
Ol.That
Osbright has been dead theſe many years.
Val.It was given out ſo: But he lived beyond Sea.
Ol.There s ſome ſtrange plot in’t.
Val.O thou pollitick
Noll.
Ol.Judge thy ſelfe,
Val, what can the myſtery be?
He tells me there’s no Gaming, ſo no Cheating;
Nor any other by-way of expence,
By Bawdry, or ſo, for privy profit.
Val.Such a ſuſpition were a ſin. But now
I will unfold the Riddle to you. This feaſting
Has been but for three dayes, and for great perſons,
That are invited, and to be prepar’d
To venture for a prize. This very night
There will be ſome great Rifling for ſome Jewell,
Or other rare Commodity they ſay.
I cannot nam’t: tis twenty pound a man.
Ol.Is not that gaming prithee?
But, hitherto, nor Dice, nor Cards, nor Wench,
[B8]Is
The Damoiſelle.
Is ſeen ith’ houſe, but his owne onely Daughter.
Ol.O! has he Daughter there? Mark that
Nam.
No gaming ſayſt thou? Ods me, and they play not
At the old Game of old there, I dare -----
Val.I dare be ſworne thou doſt ’em wrong.
Ol.Shees too ſtale, is ſhee?
Tis above twenty yeares ſince he went over,
And was reported dead (they ſay) ſoon after,
In
France, I take it: But, then, it ſeemes, he lived,
And got this Damſell there? Is ſhe French borne?
Val.Yes, ſhe was born and bred there: And can ſpeak
Engliſh but brokenly. But, for French behaviour,
Shees a moſt compleat
Damoiſelle, and able
To give inſtructions to our Courtlieſt Dames.
Am.But ſee who here comes firſt.
Enter Vermine. Servant.
Ver.Thou haſt undone me Villaine.
I was as ignorant of the deceit,
As your owne innocent worſhip ever was
Of cozening any man of Land or Living.
Ver.Was ever man ſo curſed in his Children!
Val.Tis the wretch
Vermine.
Ol.What makes he here, trow, in the Temple Walks?
Val.What ſhould he do elſewhere, when Law’s his
The Devils itch dry up his marrow for’t.
He undid a worthy Gentleman I know.
Ol.I,
Brookall, thruſting him out of his Land.
Am.Hee’s fitted with an Heire for’t; one that can
Juſtly inherit nothing but the Gallows.
Ol.Wheres
Brookalls ſon? He had a hopefull one;
And, at ſixteen, a Student here ith’ Temple.
Val.Alaſſe his Fathers fall has ruined him.
[B8v]Meer
The Damoiſelle.
Meere want of maint’nance forc’d him to ſervice,
In which hee’s lately travell’d into France.
Ver.Go backe to the Recorders: Fetch the War-
Ile ſearch the City and the Suburbs for her.
Exit Servant.
Amp.But
Vermine has a daughter may prove good,
Val.A good one like enough: Ile lay a wager
Hee’s poching ’mong the trees here, for a Broker,
To match his daughter to a landed huſband.
Ol.Let’s try if we can fit him.
Val.Thou’lt nere indure his breath, it ſtinkes of
Ol.Ile take the wind of him: You are well met,
They ſay you have a daughter you would match, Sir.
Ver.It may be I have; it may be not; How then?
Ol.Pray be not angry Sir.
The worſt of us has land, and may deſerve her.
Ver.Pray let me ask you firſt, if you be not
The knaves confederates that ſtole her from me?
Val.Is ſhe ſtolne from you Sir? In troth I am glad
Amp.Tis the firſt newes we heard on’t.
We heard none ill to day: But very good,
As that of the New Ordinary.––––––
Amp.Then the good ſucceſſe
This Gentleman had lately with a wife ---
Val.And laſtly, this you tell us; which, but that
It comes from your own mouth, were e’en too good
For our belief, me-thinks.
CThat
The Damoiſelle.
That your daughter’s gone, loſt, or ſtolne, as you ſay?
Amp.May we report it after you, good Sir?
Ver.What are you? I would know.
That cannot but rejoyce at your affliction.
And therefore blameleſſe, that deſire to hear it.
Ver.Cannot this place, where Law is chiefly ſtudied,
Relieve me with ſo much, as may revenge
Me on theſe ſcorners? How my Slave ſtayes too!
Yet I may find a time. ---
Exit.
Ol.Look, look, what thing is this? –––––
Enter Amphilus, Trebaſco.
Amb.Trebaſco,
Skip-kennel.
Amp.It ſpeaks, me-thinks.
Ol.Yes, and its ſhadow anſwers it in Corniſh.
Val.I know him; tis the wiſe Weſtern Knight, that
Have married
Vermines daughter.
Amp.Skipkennell, you ſhall turn Footman, now,
I’le nere keep horſe more –––––––
Tre.You muſt be Footman then your ſelf Sir.
Tre.You need not Sir, now you be determined to
marry, and live here i’the City altogether. And truly,
Sir, ſhe could never ha’ dyed better, nor been taken
from you (as they ſay) in a better time, ſo neere her
Amb.His Mare’s dead it ſeems.
Amp.Was it well done of her, doſt thinke, to die
[C1v]to
The Damoiſelle.
to day upon the way, when ſhe had been i’my purſe
to morrow in Smithfield: Poor fool, I think ſhe dyed
for grief I would ha’ ſold her.
Tre.’Twas unlucky to refuſe
Reynold Pengutlings
Amp.Would I had taken’t now: and ſhe had not
dyed mine own, ’twould nere have griev’d me.
Tre.Pray bear it Sir, as they ſay --- We are all mor-
tall you know, and her time was come, we muſt think.
Amp.And’t had not been the firſt loſſe that ere I
had in my life, I could ha’ born it.
Tre.And grace og (as they ſay) it ſhall not be the
Amp.I would thou couldſt aſcertain me that; but
miſchiefes are taild to one another, and I muſt grieve
as well for the what’s to come, as the departed.
Ol.We will have a bout with him: Who is depar-
Amp.My Mare, my Mare Sir: ’Twas the prettieſt
Tit – But ſhe is gone –––––
Tre.You will not talk to ’em.
Val.How is ſhe gone, I pray Sir?
Tre.Sir, as it were, becauſe ſhe could goe no fur-
Val.Good angry man give us leave to talk with thy
Ol.Good Sir, a little more of your Mare.
Tre.I would you had her all to do you good Sir:
ſhe lies but a quarter of a mile beyond Brainford.
Val.Did you leave ſkin and ſhooes, and all behind
Tre.Shoes all behind? I thought how wiſe you
were: Come away Maſter. No, while ſhe liv’d, ſhe
never wore but two behind Sir.
C 2Ol. Gra-
The Damoiſelle.
Ol.Gramercy honeſt fellow, thou haſt wit in thy
Amp.Sirrah, anſwer not the Gentleman ſo ſnap-
Tre.How can I chooſe, when they do nothing but
make a foole of your Worſhip before your Worſhips
face, and your Worſhip perceives it not.
Val.Good Sir, fall from your man to your beaſt a-
Tre.There againe, another main mock: He would
have him fall from a man to a beaſt.
Amp.Give me the ſhoon; let ’em go I ſay, I will
Tre.Pray take ’em then, hee’l ne’re be wiſer.
Amp.Theſe were her ſhoon Gentlemen, I ’le keep
’em for her ſake, that little Tit, my little poor Gonhel-
ly, that would have carried me on this little iron from
Penſans to S.
Columb on a day. And that’s a way
would try a ſtumbler you’l ſay, if you know it.
Val.’Tis enough, I know you Sir
Amphilus, and
have fool’d enough with you. Adieu; my buſineſſe
calls me. Gentlemen, will you meet me to night at the
Ol.Yes, and perhaps, be there before you too.
Come
Ambroſe –––– ––
Exeunt.
Amp.Od Gentlemen, me-thinks
Tre.Why did you talk with ’em? What had you
Amp.True, wee have other matters to think on:
Your firſt courſe T
rebaſco, after we come to our lodg-
ing, ſhall be to Turnbull-ſtreet, to the Cobler,
[C2v]Amp.
The Damoiſelle.
Amp.Yes, and ſee how my whelp proves, I put to
Amp.And know of him what Gameſters came to
the Ponds now adayes, and what good dogs.
Amp.And aſk him --- Doſt thou heare? If he ha’ not
done away his own dog yet,
Blackswan with the white
foot? If I can but purchaſe him, and my own whelp
prove right, I will be Duke of the Ducking-pond.
Tre.Never 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 piſſe under leg.
Amp.He was a fine forward Puppy, true enough:
But and that be a ſigne of ſhort life, and he ſhould
peak away after my Mare now –– Here, prethee take
her ſhoon againe: What ſhould I keep ’em for? They
put me too much in mind of mortality, do ’em away,
make money of ’em, and Ile convert it into a Dog-
Enter Vermine. Servant.
Tre.Ile try the Market with ’em.
Ver.the frumping Jacks are gone ––––
Amp.See my Aldermanicall Father-in-Law! How
d’yee do Sir? I am come. I keep my day you ſee before
I am a Cittiner among you. How does my beſt belov’d
I pray, your daughter? You do not ſpeak me-thinks.
Ver.Ask you for my daughter? Let me aske you
firſt what was your plot to put me in this fright, to
make me trudge to your Inn, whilſt knave your man
Ser.I doubt Sir he was taller.
Ver.Having firſt left a bag of Trumpery with me,
[C3]ſtones
The Damoiſelle.
ſtones, and old iron, ſteals away the baggage,
Amp.This is abhomination! What Inn? and what
old iron? I came at no Inne to day, nor touch old I-
ron, but that with ſorrow enough, my poore Mares
ſhoes, ſhe left me at her ſad deceaſe to Brainford. I
had rather ha’ loſt the beſt part of five Mark J wuſſe:
From whence I came by water, landed here at the
Temple, to leave a Letter to a kinſmans chamber, now
right as ſure as can be. Say
Trebaſco.
Amp.But is your daughter gone?
Amp.All ill go with her: Did not I ſay I ſhould
hear of more miſchief, and that one was ever tail’d to
Tre.You ſaid ſo indeed: but if ſhe had been tail’d
to your Mare, I ſhould have ſeen her ſure, when I ſtript
Ver.This is the day of my affliction,
This day Ile croſſe out of my Almanack
For ever having any thing to do on’t.
Amp.Why then, you will not ſeeke her out to
Although me-thinks the day might ſerve as well
To find her, as to loſe her, if luck ſerve.
Ser.What elſe did you intend Sir by the warrant?
Enter Brookeall.
Broo.Firſt take my execratiou with thee, Monſter.
Ver.Hell vomits all her malice this day on me.
Broo.Hell ſends by mee this commendation to
[C3v]That
The Damoiſelle.
That thou haſt there a moſt deſerved Poſſeſſion,
That gapes to entertain thee.
Amp.Who’s this, a Conjurer that knowes
Ser.No, but a certain Spirit, that my Maſter
Conjur’d out of his Land.
Here’s money to be got Sir, but to tell us
What may be now betid of this mans daughter?
Broo.Himſelf, and his Poſterity muſt all
Sink unavoydably to hell.
Amp.You are moſt deeply read! May not a Son-
Ver.Why talk you to that Rayler?
A Son-in-Law eſcape in your opinion?
Broo.No Sir: it was by Law he made the purchaſe,
And by his Son-in-Law, or out-law’d, down he muſt:
If he ſet ventrous foot, as his Inheritor,
Upon the mould, was got by his oppreſſion.
Amp.Pretty mad reaſon me-thinks; where’s that
Ver.Sirrah, Ile tame thy tongue.
Broo.No, wretch, thou canſt not,
Nor fly out of the reach of my fell curſes,
That freedome (being all that thou haſt left me)
Thou canſt not rob me of.
Then to confine it, and your ſelf in Bedlame.
Broo.Thou canſt not be ſo juſt ſure, to exchange
Thine own inheritance for mine.
A purchaſe there too, Father-Law that ſhould be?
Ver.How am I tortur’d! I will fly this place.
C 4Enter
The Damoiſelle.
Enter Phillis, a box in her hand.
Phil.Nay prethee ſtay a little, good old man,
Give ſomething to my box.
Phil.A little ſomething, prethee; but a teſter.
Phil.Thou 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 ---
Phil.Inſooth a Gentlewoman, but a By-blow,
My Father is a Knight, bnt muſt be nameleſſe.
Ver.Can Knights get Beggars?
Phil.Why not? when ſuch as thou get Knights.
Nay, prethee, prethee now gi’ me a teſter.
I ne’re aſk leſſe: My mother’s a poore Gentlewoman,
And has no meanes, but what comes through my
And this is all my work: Come, wring it out.
Oh how I love a hard-bound Money-maſter,
Whoſe count’nance ſhewes how loath hee is to part
It comes ſo ſweetly from him, when it comes:
Nay, when? I pray thee when? Piſh, make an end.
Amp.It is the prettieſt merry Beggar.
Ver.Huſwife Ile ha’ you whipt.
Phil.I, when I beg i’ th’ ſtreets.
I have allowance here, as well as any
Brokers, Projectors, Common Bail, or Bankrnpts,
Pandars, and Cheaters of all ſorts, that mix here
Mongſt men of honor, worſhip, lands and money.
[C4v]Amp.
The Damoiſelle.
Amp.O rare Beggar-wench!
Lawyers and others
Phil.I come not hither to in-
paſſe over the Stage
trap or cozen.
as conferring by
My work lies plain before me as
two and two.
With,
will you give me? Praythee, hard old man.
Phil.What though thou com’ſt to deal
For this mans Land, or ſell anothers right,
Or els to match thy daughter, if thou haſt one
To this young Gentleman –––– Thou wilt give mee
Ver.The Devill haunts me.
Amp.Shee makes a youth of me.
Phil.Yet I prethee make not
Thy money ſuch an Idoll, as to think
Thou ſhalt diſhonor’t, or impaire this bargain,
That match, or whatſoever thou haſt in traffick,
By parting with a ſilly ſilver ſixpence.
Shalt not i’fecks la, ſhalt not; Ile ſtrike luck to it,
Thy match ſhall thrive the better. Look, I have got
Here, four and ſixpence, Prethee make it a Crowne,
Twill nere be miſt in thy dear daughters Dowry,
If (as I ſaid) thou haſt one.
Phil.Hee’l gi’t me by and by. I prethee find
Thy money out the while. Come out with it man.
I fly thee, as I would the Devill that ſent thee:
Amp.Yes, let’s away, tis time; ſhe begs of mee
Phil.The Devill is not ſurer to o’re-take thee. ––––––
Exeunt omnes preter Brookeall.
Broo.Good child I thanke thee: Thou haſt ſome-
[C5r]My
The Damoiſelle.
My penſive heart by his vexation:
She ſpake as Divination had inſpir’d her
With knowledge of my wrongs, and his oppreſſion,
To take my part: Take thou a bleſſing for’t
Who ere thou art, whilſt I recalculate
The miſeries of a diſtreſſed man,
Caſt out of all. Unhappy chance of Law!
More falſe and mercileſſe then Dice or Strumpets;
That haſt into thy Hydra-throated mawe
Gulp’d up my lives ſupportance; left me nothing;
Not means for one dayes ſuſtenance, for breath
To cry thy cruelty before my death.
That Law, once called ſacred, and ordain’d
For ſafety and reliefe to innocence,
Should live to be accurs’d in her ſucceſſion,
And now be ſtil’d Supportreſſe of oppreſſion;
Ruine of Families, paſt the bloody rage
Of Rape or Murder: All the crying ſins
Negotiating for Hell in her wild practiſe.
Enter Attorney.
At.A man I hope for my purpoſe, and ſave me a
going to the Church for one: Will you make an Oath
At.For two ſhillings; and it be half a Crowne,
my Client ſhall not ſtand w’ye; the Judge is at leiſure,
and the other of our Bail is there already. Come, go
Broo.I gueſſe you ſome Attorney: Do you know me?
At.No, nor any man we imploy in theſe caſes.
Broo.He takes me for a common Bail; a Knight o’th
Thou art a villaine, and crop-ear’d I doubt not:
[C5v]What
The Damoiſelle.
What, dar’ſt thou ſay, thou ſeeſt upon me, that ---
At.I cry you mercy: I muſt up (I ſee)
To the old Synagogue, there I ſhall be fitted –––
Exit.
Broo.Can I appear ſo wretched? or can grief
So ſoile the face of poverty, which is vertue,
To make it ſeem that Monſter Perjury?
Rather let ſorrow end me all at once,
Then vertue be miſconſtrued in my looks,
Which I will hide from ſuch inter-
He lies on his face.
Enter Frendly.
Frend.Alas hee’s ſore afflicted, and my newes,
I fear, will ſtrike him dead; yet I muſt ſpeak.
Sir, give not miſery that advantage on you,
To make your ſelf the leſſe, by ſhrinking under
The buffetings of fortune.
To ſeek my ſon, Ha’ you found him at his Chamber?
Or has not want of fatherly ſupplies
(VVhich heaven knowes I am robb’d of) thruſt him
Of Commons, to the Common VVorld for ſuccour?
Where is he, have you found him?
But I have found what may be comfort to you,
If you receive it like a man of courage.
Broo.Hee’s dead then, farewell my tender boy!
Fren.Indeed, Sir, hee’s not dead.
Fren.Pray, ſir, heare me.
Broo.You’ll tell me, man nere dies; But changeth
[C6r]And
The Damoiſelle.
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 onely took on Credit with the World.
And that the beſt of men are but meer borrowers:
Though ſome take longer day. Sir, J know all
Your Arguments of Conſolation –– –
Fren.Indeed he is not dead; but lives –––
J am the ſurer on’t; for that he liv’d
Not to learn Law enough, to ––– huſh. No more.
Fren.Subſtantially he lives in fleſh, as we do.
Fren.A Gentleman of the next Chamber told me
Onely, ſir, this; if you can brook his abſence
Without feare, or miſtruſt; then he is well.
Broo.How thou playeſt with me!
Fren.He’s gone to travell, ſir. Here comes the Gen-
Enter Valentine.
Val.I am ſure he does not know me. If he could,
I were as ſure this Charity would be rejected.
So much J know his Spirit. Is your name
Brookeall,
Brook.My loſſes, wrongs, and ſorrowes, ſpeak my
Val.You had a Son late of this houſe.
Broo.And do not you infer by that he’s dead?
Good, do not mock me, ſir.
He lives and ſent it to you; forty peeces?
[C6v]Broo
The Damoiſelle.
Broo.Pray, ſir, from whence, or where might he
So great a Sum? Not in this World, J feare.
A handſome poſſibility he had once,
Could J ha’ kept it for him.
Now to a hopefull fortune. A Noble Gentleman,
Late gone to travell, ta’ne with good affection
Towards your Son, has ta’ne hin to his care:
And like a Father, not a Maſter, keeps him.
From whoſe free bounty he receiv’d this meanes.
Broo.Do you think the Boy did well to ſend it me
When twas intended for his Maſters honour,
To flye in Silks and Feathers? Tis not Servant like
To wave a Maſters meaning ſo.
Though moſt unhappily miſlay’d.
Broo.Ha! -- but miſlay’d, you ſay. Ha, ha, ha, ––––
VVhat is the Gentleman? Or whither travell’d?
Val.That’s all J crave excuſe for.
If you can render me my Son, Ile thank you.
Val.You ſpeak not like a Father: wanting meanes
Your ſelfe for his advancement, would you bar him
The bounty of anothers full ability?
Broo.J ſpeak more like a Father, then a Beggar:
Although no Beggar poorer. And J feare,
J am no Father: for J would not give
My Son to gain a Province, nor except
This Coyne to ſave my life: If he be loſt,
Let me look neerer on you, ſir.
[C7]He
The Damoiſelle.
He will accept the Money. Poverty
J ever ſaw this face: But I have ſeen
(Many yeares ſince) one, that it ſo reſembles,
As J could ſpit defiance on’t –––
Broo.And charge thee with the Murther of my Son
Val.Pray, ſir, collect your ſelfe.
Broo.Your name is
Valentine.
Broo.Sir
Humphrey Drygrounds Son:
Broo.Even ſo thy Father look’d, when, at like years
He was my Rivall: For young man, J tell thee
Thou hadſt a virtuous, well deſerving Mother.
He won her without loſſe of my known Friend-ſhip:
But, ſince her death, you cannot but have heard,
He baſely wrong’d my Siſter, and, in her,
Mee, and my Family: Whor’d her, and caſt her off,
On the appointed Marriage day.
Broo.You cannot but have heard on’t. Nay, it ſeems,
My Boy has charg’d thee with’t, before his yeares
Could warrant his ability in Combate,
And ſo is fallen; Or thou, not daring ſtand
Tryall in ſuch a cauſe, by treachery
Haſt cut him off; And com’ſt to make thy peace:
Preſuming on my Poverty, with money.
Worſe then the baſe Attornies Project this!
Val.This is meer madneſſe. In an Act ſo foule,
As your wilde Fancy gathers this to be;
Who could eſcape the Law?
Broo.The Law; ha, ha, ha.
Talk not to me of Law, Law’s not my Friend.
[C7v]Law
The Damoiſelle.
Law is a Fatall to me, as your houſe.
I have enough of Law; pray ſtand you off.
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?
Val.VVhat ſhall J do for pity? ––– Now J have
Broo.Talk not to me of Law.
[ He fenceth. ]
Broo.Now, ſir, your wil before your end. Be briefe.
Val.You know me for a Gentleman, though an E-
(I muſt ſpeak in his phraſe) and by that honour
A Gentleman ſhould keep ſacred, two houres hence
Ile meet you in this place –––
Broo.Pray ſtand you off ––– –––
to Friendly.
Val.From whence wee’ll walke ----
Broo.Silent, as nothing were ---
Val.As nothing were betwixt us --- to ſome other
Fit ground, (as you propounded) where wee’ll end
Broo.By the Sword; no otherwiſe.
No whinnelling ſatisfaction.
Broo.Go ſet thy houſe in order. Here Ile meet thee,
Exit.
[C8]ACT.
