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 God.

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?

SCAR.  I have done so much that, if I wed not her,
My marriage makes me an adulterer: 
In which black sheets I wallow all my life,
My babes being bastards, and a whore my wife.

Enter SECRETARY.

LORD.  Ha, is’t even so? my secretary there,
Write me a letter straight to Sir John Harcop,
I’ll see, sir Jack, and if that Harcop dare,
Being my ward, contract you to his daughter.

[Exit SECRETARY.

Enter STEWARD.

My steward too, post you to Yorkshire,
Where lies my youngster’s land; and, sirrah,
Fell me his wood, make havoc, spoil and waste. [Exit STEWARD. 
Sir, you shall know that you are ward to me,
I’ll make you poor enough:  then mend yourself.

WIL.  O cousin!

SCAR.  O uncle!

LORD.  Contract yourself, and where you list? 
I’ll make you know me, sir, to be your guard.

SCAR.  World, now thou seest what ’tis to be a ward.

LORD.  And where I meant myself to have disburs’d
Four thousand pounds, upon this marriage
Surrendered up your land to your own use,
And compass’d other portions to your hands,
Sir, I’ll now yoke you still.

SCAR.  A yoke indeed.

LORD.  And, spite of them[356] dare contradict my will,
I’ll make thee marry to my chambermaid.  Come, coz.
          
                                     [Exit.

BAX.  Faith, sir, it fits you to be more advis’d.

SCAR, Do not you flatter for preferment, sir?

WIL.  O, but, good coz!