Volume Ix Part 97 (1/2)
Then he will be here forthwith: you, Master Baxter, Go usher hither straight young Katherine, Sir William here and I will keep this room, Till you return.
[_Exit_ DOCTOR.
_Enter_ SCARBOROW.
SCAR. My honourable[354] lord.
LORD. 'Tis well-done, Scarborow.
SCAR. Kind uncle.
WIL. Thanks, my good coz.
LORD. You have been welcome in your country Yorks.h.i.+re?
SCAR. The time that I spent there, my lord, was merry.
LORD. 'Twas well, 'twas very well! and in your absence Your uncle here and I have been bethinking, What gift 'twixt us we might bestow on you, That to your house large dignity might bring, With fair increase, as from a crystal spring.
_Enter_ DOCTOR _and_ KATHERINE.
SCAR. My name is bound to your benificence, Your hands have been to me like bounty's purse, Never shut up, yourself my foster nurse: Nothing can from your honour come, prove me so rude, But I'll accept, to shun ingrat.i.tude.
LORD. We accept thy promise, now return thee this, A virtuous wife: accept her with a kiss.
SCAR. My honourable lord!
LORD. Fear not to take her, man: she will fear neither, Do what thou canst, being both abed together.
SCAR. O, but my lord--
LORD. But me? dog of wax! come kiss, and agree, Your friends have thought it fit, and it must be.
SCAR. I have no hands to take her to my wife.
LORD. How, sauce-box?
SCAR. O, pardon me, my lord; the unripeness of my years, Too green for government, is old in fears To undertake that charge.
LORD. Sir, sir, and sir knave, then here is a mellowed experience knows how to teach you.
SCAR. O G.o.d.
LORD. O Jack, Have[355] both our cares, your uncle and myself, Sought, studied, found out, and for your good, A maid, a niece of mine, both fair and chaste; And must we stand at your discretion?
SCAR. O good my lord, Had I two souls, then might I have two wives: Had I two faiths, then had I one for her; Having of both but one, that one is given To Sir John Harcop's daughter.
LORD. Ha, ha! what's that? let me hear that again.
SCAR. To Sir John Harcop's Clare I have made an oath: Part me in twain, yet she's one-half of both.
This hand the which I wear, it is half hers: Such power hath faith and troth 'twixt couples young, Death only cuts that knot tied with the tongue.
LORD. And have you knit that knot, sir?