God's lid, my
sister Delia! I'll rob her, by this hand.
[Enter Delia, and Artichoke.]
DELIA.
I prithee, Artichoke, go not so fast:
The weather is hot, and I am something weary.
ARTICHOKE.
Nay, I warrant you, mistress Delia, I'll not tire you with
leading; we'll go a extreme moderate pace.
FLOWERDALE.
Stand, deliver your purse.
ARTICHOKE.
O lord, thieves, thieves!
[Exit Artichoke.]
FLOWERDALE.
Come, come, your purse, lady, your purse.
DELIA.
That voice I have heard often before this time.
What, brother Flowerdale become a thief?
FLOWERDALE.
Aye, a plague on't, I thank your father. But, sister, come,
your money, come! What,
The world must find me, I am borne to live,
Tis not a sin to steal, when none will give.
DELIA.
O God, is all grace banished from they heart?
Think of the shame that doth attend this fact.
FLOWERDALE.
Shame me no shame; come, give me your purse.
I'll bind you, sister, least I fair the worse.
DELIA.
No, bind me not! hold, there is all I have,
And would that money would redeem thy shame.
[Enter Oliver, Sir Arthur, and Artichoke.]
ARTICHOKE.
Thieves, thieves, thieves!
OLIVER.
Thieves? where, man? why, how now mistress Delia?
Ha you a liked to bin a robbed?
DELIA.
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