ilip, speak.

MRS BAR. O Lord, what haste you make to hurt yourselves!--
Good Philip, use some good persuasions
To make them friends.

PHIL. Yes, I'll do what I can.--
Father and Master Goursey, both attend.
It is presumption in so young a man
To teach where he might learn, or to[432] direct,
Where he hath had direction; but in duty
He may persuade as long as his persuase
Is back'd with reason and a rightful suit.
Physic's first rule is this, as I have learned:
Kill the effect by cutting off the cause.
The same effects of ruffian outrages
Comes by the cause of malice in your wives;
Had not they two been foes, you had been friends,
And we had been at home, and this same war
In peaceful sleep had ne'er been dreamt upon.
Mother and Mistress Goursey, to make them friends,
Is to be friends yourselves: you are the cause,
And these effects proceed, you know, from you;
Your hates gives life unto these killing strifes,
But die, and if that envy[433] die in you.--
Fathers, yet stay.--O, speak!--O, stay a while!--
Francis, persuade thy mother.--Master Goursey,
If that my mother will resolve[434] your mind[435]
That 'tis but mere suspect, not common proof,
And if my father swear he's innocent,
As I durst pawn my soul with him he is,
And if your wife vow truth and constancy,
Will you be then persuaded?

MR GOUR. Philip, if thy father will remit
The wounds I gave him, and if these conditions
May be performed, I banish all my wrath.

MR BAR. And if thy mother will but clear me, Philip,
As I am ready to protest I am,
Then Master Goursey is my friend again.

PHIL. Hark, mother; now you hear that your desires
May be accomplished; they will both be friends,
If you'll perform these easy articles.

MRS BAR. Shall I be friends with such an enemy?

PHIL. What say you[436] unto my persuase?

MRS BAR. I say she's[437] my deadly enemy.

PHIL. Ay, but she will be your friend, if you revolt.

MRS BAR. The words I said! what, shall I eat a truth?

PHIL. Why, hark ye, mother.

FRAN. Mother, what say you?

MRS GOUR. Why, this I say, she slandered my good name.

FRAN. But if she now deny it, 'tis no defame.

MRS GOUR. What, shall I think her hate will yield so much?

FRAN. Why, doubt it not; her spirit may be such.

MR GOUR. Why, will it be?

PHIL. Yet stay, I have some hope.
Mother, why, mother, why, hear ye[438]:
Give me your hand; it is no more but thus;
'Tis easy labour to shake hands with her:
Little[439] brea