Your man is something saucy.
[Exit Lucy.]
LANCELOT.
Go to, sirrah, I'll talk with you anon.
DAFFODIL.
Sir, I am a man to be talked withal,
I am no horse, I tro:
I know my strength, then no more than so.
WEATHERCOCK.
Aye, by the matkins, good Sir Lancelot,
I saw him the other day hold up the bucklers,
Like an Hercules. Yfaith, God a mercy, lad,
I like thee well.
LANCELOT.
Aye, I like him well: go, sirrah, fetch me a
cup of wine,
That ere I part with Master Weathercock,
We may drink down our farewell in French wine.
WEATHERCOCK.
I thank you, sir, I thank you, friendly knight,
I'll come and visit you, by the mouse-foot I will:
In the meantime, take heed of cutting Flowerdale.
He is a desperate dick, I warrant you.
LANCELOT.
He is, he is: fill, Daffodil, fill me some wine. Ha,
what wears he on his arm? My daughter Lucy's
bracelet. Aye, tis the same.--Ha to you, Master
Weathercock.
WEATHERCOCK.
I thank you, sir: Here, Daffodil, an honest fellow
and a tall thou art. Well, I'll take my leave, good
knight, and hope to have you and all your daughters
at my poor house; in good sooth I must.
LANCELOT.
Thanks, Master Weathercock, I shall be bold to
trouble you, be sure.
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