Now, cousin Lacy, in what forwardness

Are all your companies?

LACY All well prepared.

The men of Hertfordshire lie at Mile End,

Suffolk and Essex train in Tothill Fields;

The Londoners and those of Middlesex,

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All gallantly prepared in Finsbury,

With frolic spirits long for their parting hour.

OATLEY

They have their imprest, coats and furniture,

And if it please your cousin Lacy come

To the Guildhall he shall receive his pay,

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And twenty pounds besides my brethren

Will freely give him to approve our loves

We bear unto my lord your uncle here.

LACY

I thank your honour.

LINCOLN Thanks, my good Lord Mayor.

OATLEY

At the Guildhall we will expect your coming. Exit

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LINCOLN

To approve your loves to me? No, subtlety!

Nephew, that twenty pound he doth bestow

For joy to rid you from his daughter Rose.

But, cousins both, now here are none but friends,

I would not have you cast an amorous eye

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Upon so mean a project as the love

Of a gay, wanton, painted citizen.

I know this churl even in the height of scorn

Doth hate the mixture of his blood with thine:

I pray thee, do thou so. Remember, coz,

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What honourable fortunes wait on thee.

Increase the King’s love which so brightly shines

And gilds thy hopes; I have no heir but thee –

And yet not thee, if with a wayward spirit

Thou start from the true bias of my love.

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LACY

My lord, I will for honour – not desire

Of land or livings, or to be your heir –

So guide my actions in pursuit of France

As shall add glory to the Lacys’ name.

LINCOLN

Coz, for those words here’s thirty portagues;

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And nephew Askew, there’s a few for you,

Fair honour in her loftiest eminence

Stays in France for you till you fetch her thence,

Then, nephews, clap swift wings on your designs.

Begone, begone, make haste to the Guildhall.

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There presently I’ll meet you. Do not stay:

Where honour beckons, shame attends delay. Exit

ASKEW

How gladly would your uncle have you gone!

LACY

True, coz; but I’ll o’er-reach his policies.

I have some serious business for three days,

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Which nothing but my presence can dispatch.

You therefore, cousin, with the companies,

Shall haste to Dover. There I’ll meet with you,

Or if I stay past my prefixed time,

Away for France; we’ll meet in Normandy.

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The twenty pounds my Lord Mayor gives to me

You shall receive, and these ten portagues,

Part of mine uncle’s thirty. Gentle coz,

Have care to our great charge. I know your wisdom

Hath tried itself in higher consequence.

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ASKEW

Coz, all myself am yours. Yet have this care,

To lodge in London with all secrecy.

Our uncle Lincoln hath, besides his own,

Many a jealous eye that in your face

Stares only to watch means for your disgrace.

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