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Scaena Secunda.
Enter old Sebastian, and L••••••celot.
Seb.
SIrha, no more of your Fr••nch shrugs I advise you,
If you be lowzie, shift your selfe.
La••.
May it pleas•• your worship••
Seb.
Onely to see my sonne, my sonne good L••uncelot:
Your Master, and my sonnes body O me si••,
No money, no more money Monsieur Launcelot••
Not a dene••re, sweet Signior: b••ing the person,
The person of my boy, my boy Tom: Monsieur Thomas,
O•• get you gone ag••n, du gata wh•••• ••ir,
Bassa mi cu, good Launcelot, valet••t••.
My boy, or nothing.
Lan.
Then to answer punctually.
Seb.
I say to 'th purpose.
Lan.
Then I say to'th purpose,
Because your Worships vulgar understanding
May meet me at the ne••rest•• your sonne, my master,
Or Monsieur Thomas, (for so his travell stiles him)
Through many forraigne plots that vertue meets with,
And dangers (I beseech ye give attention)
I•• at the last ariv'd
To aske your (as the French man cals it swee••ly)
Benediction, as jo••r 〈◊〉〈◊〉 jo••r.
Seb.
Sirha, do not conjure me with your French ••uries.
Lan.
Che ditt'a v••n, Monsieur.
Seb.
Che d••g•• v••n, Rascall:
Leave me your rott••n lang••••ge, and tell me plainely
And quickly si••ha, 〈◊〉〈◊〉 I cr••ck your French crown••,
What your good Master meanes: I have maintain'd
You and your Monsieur, as I take it La••••celo••
These two yeeres ••t your ditty 〈◊〉〈◊〉, your 〈◊〉〈◊〉: