WEATHERCOCK.
Believe me, he hath bit you there, he hath
touched you to the quick, that hath he.
FLOWERDALE.
Woodcock a my side! why, master Weathercock,
you know I am honest, however trifles--
WEATHERCOCK.
Now, by my troth, I know no otherwise.
O your old mother was a dame indeed:
Heaven hath her soul, and my wives too, I trust:
And your good father, honest gentleman,
He is gone a Journey, as I hear, far hence.
FLOWERDALE.
Aye, God be praised, he is far enough.
He is gone a pilgrimage to Paradice,
And left me to cut a caper against care.
Lucy, look on me that am as light as air.
LUCY.
Yfaith, I like not shadows, bubbles, breath
I hate a light a love, as I hate death.
LANCELOT.
Girl, hold thee there: look on this Devonshire lad:
Fat, fair, and lovely, both in purse and person.
OLIVER.
Well, sir, cham as the Lord hath made me. You
know me well, uyine: cha have three-score pack a
karsie, and black-em hal, and chief credit beside,
and my fortunes may be so good as an others, zo
it may.
LUCY.
[Aside to Arthur.] Tis you I love, whatsoever
others say.
ARTHUR.
Thanks, fairest.
FLOWERDALE.
[Aside to Father.] What, wouldnst thou have me
quarrel with him?
FATHER.
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