Fathers own son a comedy formerly acted at the private house in Black Fryers, and now at the Theatre in Vere-Street by His Majesties servants / the author John Fletcher, Gent.

Scena quinta.

Enter Hylas, and Thomas.

Hyl.

I Heard the doores clap: now, and't be thy will, wench By th' mas she comes: you a••e surely melt f••ir•• gen∣tlewoman, I take it Mistris Doll, Sebastians daughter.

Tho.

I take right sir: Hylas, are you feretting Ile fit you with a pennyworth presently.

Hyl.

How dare you walk so late so sweet: so weak gu••rd••d?

Tho.

Faith sir, I do no harme, nor none I looke for Yet I am glad, I have met so good a gentleman, Against all chances: for though I never kn••w ye Yet I have heard much good spoke of ye,

Hyl.

Harke ye. What if a man should kisse ye?

Tho,

That's no harme sir,

Pray God he scapes my heard, there lyes the mischiefe.

Hyl.

Her lips are monstrous rugged, but that surely Is but the sharpnesse of the weather: harke ye once more, And in your eare, sweet Mistresse, for ye are so, And ever shall be from this houre: I have vow'd it.

Enter Sebastian and Launcelot.

Seb.

Why that's my daughter, rogue, do'st thou not see her Kissing that fellow there, there in that corner?

Lan.

Kissing?

Seb.

Now, now, now they agree o'th match too.

Tho.

Nay then ye love me not.

Hyl.

By this white hand Doll.

Tom.

I must confesse, I have long desir'd your sight sir.

Lan.

Why ther's the Boots still sir.

Seb.

Hang Boots sir, Why they'l weare breeches too.

Tom.

Dishonest me Not for the world.

Seb.

Why now they kisse againe, there I knew 'twas she, and that her crafty stealing O••t the back way must needs have such a meaning.

Lan.

I am at my small wits end.

Thom.

If ye meane honourably.

Lan.

Did she nev'r beat ye before sir?

Seb.

Why do'st thou follow me? Thou rascall slave hast thou not twice abus'd me? Hast thou not spoil'd the boy? by thine owne covenant, Would'st thou not now be hang'd?

Lan.

I thinke I would sir, But you are so impatient: do's not this shew sir, (I do beseech ye speake, and speake with judgement, And let the case be equally considered) Far braver in your daughter? in a son now 'Tis nothing, of no marke: every man do's it, But, to beget a daughter, a man maiden That reaches at the••e high exploits, is admirable: Nay she goes far beyond him: for when durst he,

But when he was drunke, doe any thing to speake of? This is Sebastian truely.

Seb.

Thou sayest right Lance, And ther's my hand once more.

Tho.

Not without marriage.

Seb.

Didst thou heare that?

Lan.

I thinke she spoke of marriage,

Seb••

And he shall marry her, for it ••eems she likes him, And their first boy shall be my heire.

Lan.

I marry Now ye goe right to worke.

Thom.

Fye, fye sir, Now I have promis'd ye this night to marry, Would ye be so intemperate? are ye a gentleman?

Hyl.

I have no maw to marriage, yet this rascall Tempts me extreamely: will ye marry presently?

Tho.

Get you afore, and stay me at the Chappell, Close by the Nunnery, there you shall finde a night Pri•• Little sir Hugh, and he can say the Matrimony Over without booke, for we must have no company Nor light, for feare my father know, which must not yet•• And then to morrow night.

Hyl.

Nothing to night sweet?

Tho.

No, not a bit, I am sent of businesse About my dowry, sweet, doe not you spoile all now, 'Tis of muh haste. I can scarce stay the marriage, Now if you love me, get you gone.

Hyl.

You'l follow?

Tom.

Within this houre, my sweet chicke.

Hyl.

Kisse.

Tho.

A rope kisse ye, Come, come, I stand o'thorne••••

Hyl.

Me thinkes her mouth still Is monstrous rough, but they have waies to mend it, Farewell.

Tom.

Farewell, I'le fit ye with a wife, sir.

Seb.

Come, follow close, I'le see the end she aymes at,

And if he be a handsome fellow La••••c••lot, Fiat, 'tis done, and all my state is setled.

Exeunt.