FLOWERDALE.
No, Kester, I have troubled thee, and wronged thee more.
What thou in love gives, I in love restore.
FRANCES.
Ha, ha, sister, there you played bo-peep with Tom. What
shall I give her toward household? Sister Delia, shall I
give her my fan?
DELIA.
You were best ask your husband.
FRANCES.
Shall I, Tom?
CIVET.
Aye, do, Frances; I'll buy thee a new one, with a longer
handle.
FRANCES.
A russet one, Tom.
CIVET.
Aye, with russet feathers.
FRANCES.
Here, sister, there's my fan towad household, to keep
you warm.
LUCY.
I thank you, sister.
WEATHERCOCK.
Why this is well, and toward fair Lucy's stock, here's
forty shillings: and forty good shillings more, I'll give
her, marry. Come, Sir Lancelot, I must have you friends.
LANCELOT.
Not I, all this is counterfeit;
He will consume it, were it a million.
FATHER.
Sir, what is your daughter's dower worth?
LANCELOT.
Had she been married to an honest man,
It had been better than a thousand pound.
FATHER.
Pay it him, and I'll give you my bond,
To make her jointer better worth than three.
LANCELOT.
Your bond, sir? why, what are you?
FATHER.
One whose word in London, though I say it,
Will pass there for as much as yours.
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