Act. 2. Scaen. 3.Truman pater, Truman fillus.Tru. p.You hear me—Tru. f.Sir—Tru. p.Sir me no sirs: I say you shall mar∣ry Mistris Tabitha.Tru. f.I hope sir—Tru. p.I, when I bid you do any thing, then you are a hoping; well, what do you hope sir?Tru. f.That you'ld be pleas'd—Tru. p.No, I will not be pleas'd till I see your manners mended: marry gap, you'le be teaching your father.Tru. f.I am —Tru. p.Go to, you're a foolish boy, and know not what's good for your self: you are? what are you, pray? we shall ha' you crow over your father.Tru. f.I shall observe—Tru. p.You will not sure? will you ob¦serve me? 'tis very well if my son come to ob∣serve me i'my old days, you will observe me? will ye?Tru. f.I mean sir—Tru. p.You shall mean what I please, if you be mine: I must be bound to your meaning?Tru. f.It may be—Tru. p.You'll teach me what may be, will you? do not I know what may be? 'tis fine, 'tis very fine: now i'your wisdom, now what may be?Tru. f.That Captain Blade—Tru. p.That what? what can he do? I'll see his nose cheese before you shall marry his neece. Captain Blade's a swaggering companion; let 'um swagger, and see what he gets by his swaggering; I would have swaggered with him for his ears when I was a young man. And though I ha' done swaggering—well—I shall meet with Captain Blade, I hold him a tester on't—Tru. f.(Would he were gone.) I shall obey —Tru. p.Obey me no obeyings, but do what I command you. I'll to the Widow, and talk abot her portion: stay I had al∣most forgot to tel you; oh—Mistris Tabitha's a vertuous maid, a very religious wench; I'll go speak concerning her portion.Tru. f.It may be sir—Tru. p.Youll never leave this trick, you'll be at your may-bees; take heed boy, this humour will undoe thee—she cannot have less then three thousand pounds: well — I'll go see—and d'ee hear? she goes plain, and is a good huswife; which of your spruce mincing squincing dames can make bone∣lace like her? o tis a notable, apt, quick, wit∣ty girle—I'll goe to her mother about the portion. Exit.Tru. f.About this time her letter pro∣mis'd me a meeting here: destiny it self will sooner break its word then she. Dear Mistris, there's none here besides your vassal. She's ready—Act. 2. Scaen. 4.Truman filius, Lucia veil'd.Ha! why this covering?This is mistery darker then the veileThat clouds thy glorious face; unless t'en∣creaseMy desire first, and then my joy to see thee,Thou cast this subtler night before thy beauty.And now like one scorched with some ra∣ging feaver,Upon whose flames nor dew nor sleep hath faln,I could begin to quarrel with the darkness,And blame the slothful rising of the morn;But with more gladness entertain't, then they,Whose icy dwellings the cold Bare ore-looks,When after half the yeers continued night,And the most edious night of all but death;A sudden light shot from their horizon,Brings the long wisht-for day, which with such gloryLeaps from the East, as doth thy mateless beauty.0