_Lil._ Twill make you surfet, I am tender of you:
Y'have all y'are like to have. _And._ And can this be earnest?
_Mir._ it seemes so, and she honest. _Bri._ Have I not
Thy promise _Lilly_? _Lil._ Yes and I have performed
Enough to a man of your yeares, this is truth,
And you shall find Sir, you have kist and tows'd me,
Handled my legg and foote, what would you more, Sir,?
As for the rest, it requires youth and strength,
And the labour in an old man would breed Agues,
Sciaticaes, and Cramps; you shall not curse me,
For taking from you what you cannot spare, Sir:
Be good unto your selfe, y'ave tane alreadie
All you can take with ease; you are past threshing,
It is a worke too boisterous for you; leave
Such drudgerie to _Andrew_. _Mir._ How she jeeres him?
_Lil._ Let _Andrew_ alone with his owne tillage,
Hee's tough, and can manure it. _Bri._ Y'are a queane,
A scoffing jeering quean. _Lil._ It may be so, but
I'me sure, Ile nere be yours. _Bri._ Doe not provoke me,
If thou do'st, Ile have my Farm againe, and turne
Thee out a begging. _Lil._ Though you have the will,
And want of honestie to deny your Deed, Sir,
Yet I hope _Andrew_ has got so much learning
From my young Master, as to keep his own;
At the worst, Ile tell a short tale to the Judges,
For what grave ends you sign'd your Lease, and on
What termes you would revoke it. _Bri._ Whore thou dar'st not.
Yeeld or Ile have thee whipt; How my bloud boiles,
As if t'were ore a furnace! _Mir.
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