FLOWERDALE.
I'll pay thee not a penny, and for security, I'll give thee
none. Minckins, look you do not follow me, look you do
not: If you do, beggar, I shall slit your nose.
LUCY.
Alas, what shall I do?
FLOWERDALE.
Why, turn whose, that's a good trade,
And so perhaps I'll see thee now and then.
[Exit Flowerdale.]
LUCY.
Alas the day that ever I was born.
FATHER.
Sweet mistress, do not weep, I'll stick to you.
LUCY.
Alas, my friend, I know not what to do.
My father and my friends, they have despised me:
And I, a wretched maid, thus cast away,
Knows neither where to go, nor what to say.
FATHER.
It grieves me at the soul, to see her tears
Thus stain the crimson roses of her cheeks.--
Lady, take comfort, do not mourn in vain.
I have a little living in this town,
The which I think comes to a hundred pound,
All that and more shall be at your dispose.
I'll straight go help you to some strange disguise,
And place you in a service in this town,
Where you shall know all, yet yourself unknown:
Come, grieve no more, where no help can be had,
Weep not for him that is more worse than bad.
LUCY.
I thank you, sir.
[Exeunt.]
ACT IV.
SCENE I. A room in Sir Lancelot Spurcock's house
in Kent.
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