elcome. [_Exit_ Marall.) Roughness awhile leave me;
For fawning now, a stranger to my nature,
Must make way for me.

_Enter_ Lovell, Allworth, Marall, _and_ Greedy.

_Lov._ Sir, you meet your trouble.

_Sir G._ What you are pleased to style so is an honour
Above my worth and fortunes.

_Allw._ Strange! so humble.

_Sir G._ A justice of peace, my lord.

[_Presents_ Greedy to _him_.

_Lov._ Your hand, good sir.

_Greedy._ This is a lord; and some think this is a favour;
But I had rather have my hand in my dumpling. [_Aside._

_Sir G._ Room for my lord.

_Lov._ I miss, sir, your fair daughter,
To crown my welcome.

_Sir G._ May it please my lord
To taste a glass of Greek wine first; and suddenly
She shall attend my lord.

_Lov._ You'll be obey'd, sir.

[_Exeunt all but_ Sir Giles.

_Sir G._ 'Tis to my wish; as soon as come, ask for her!
Why, Meg! Meg Overreach!

_Enter_ Margaret.

How! Tears in your eyes?
Hah! dry 'em quickly, or I'll dig 'em out.
Is this a time to whimper? Meet that greatness
That flies into thy bosom; think what tis
For me to say, my honourable daughter:
No more but be instructed, or expect--
He comes.

_Enter_ Lovell _and_ Greedy.

A black-brow'd girl, my lord.

_Lov._ As I live, a rare one!

_Sir G._ That kiss
Came twanging off, I like it: quit the room.

_Exit_ Greedy.

A little bashful, my good lord: but you,
I hope, will teach her boldness.

_Lov._ I am happy
In such a scholar: but----

_Sir G._ I am past learning,
And therefore leave you to yourselves: remember--

_Exit_ Sir Giles.

_Lov._ You see, fair lady, your father is solicitous
To have you change the barren name of virgin
Into a hopeful wife.

_Marg._ His haste, my lord,
Holds no power o'er my will.

_Lov._ But o'er your duty----

_Marg._ Which forc'd too much may break.

_Lov._ Bend rather, sweetest:
Think of your years.

_Marg._ Too few to match with yours:

_Lov._ Do you think I am old?

_Marg._ I am sure, I am too young.

_Lov._ I can advance you.

_Marg._ To a hill of sorrow;
Where every hour I may expect to fall,
But never hope firm footing. You are noble;
I of low descent, however rich.
O my good lord, I could say more, but that
I dare not trust these walls.

_Lov._ 'Pray you, trust my ear, then.

_Enter_ Sir Giles Overreach, _listening_.

_Sir G._ Close at it! whispering! this is excellent!
And, by their postures, a consent on both parts.

_Enter_ Greedy.

_Greedy