C. FRED. Young Master Abraham! cry ye mercy, sir.
ABRA. Your lordship's poor friend, and Sir Abraham Ninny.
The dub-a-dub of honour, piping hot Doth lie upon my worship's shoulder-blade.
SIR INN. Indeed, my lord, with much cost and labour we have got him knighted; and being knighted under favour, my lord, let me tell ye he'll prove a sore knight, as e'er run at ring. He is the one and only Ninny of our house.
L. NIN. He has cost us something, ere he came to this.
Hold up your head, Sir Abraham.
ABRA. Pish, pish, pish, pish!
C. FRED. D'ye hear how--
PEN. O my lord.
CAPT. POUTS. I had well hoped she could not have spoke, she is so fat.
C. FRED. Long may'st thou wear thy knighthood; and thy spurs Prick thee to honour on, and prick off curs.
ABRA. Sir Abraham thanks your honour, and I hope your lordship will consider the simplicity of parents: a couple of old fools, my lord, and I pray so take 'em.
OMNES. Ha! ha! ha!
ABRA. I must be fain to excuse you here: you'll be needs coming abroad with me. If I had no more wit than you now, we should be finely laughed at.
SIR INN. By'r lady, his worship says well: wife, we'll trouble him no longer. With your honour's leave, I'll in and see my old friend Sir John, your father that shall be.
L. NIN. I'll in, too, and see if your bride need no dressing.
[_Exeunt_ SIR INNOCENT _and lady_.[21]
C. FRED. 'Sfoot, as much as a tripe, I think: Haste them, I pray. Captain, what thinkest thou Of such a woman in a long sea voyage, Where there were a dearth of victuals?
CAPT. POUTS. Venison, my lord, venison.
PEN. I'faith, my lord, such venison as a bear is.
CAPT. POUTS. Heart! she looks like a black bombard[22] with a pint pot waiting upon it.
[_Exit_ MRS WAGTAIL.
C. FRED. What countrymen were your ancestors, Sir Abraham?
ABRA. Countrymen! they were no countrymen: I scorn it. They were gentlemen all: my father is a Ninny, and my mother was a Hammer.
CAPT. POUTS. You should be a knocker, then, by the mother's side.
ABRA. I pray, my lord, what is yon gentleman? He looks so like a Saracen that, as I am a Christian, I cannot endure him.
C. FRED. Take heed what you say, sir; he's a soldier.
PEN. If you cross him, he'll blow you up with gunpowder.
ABRA. In good faith, he looks as if he had had a hand in the treason.[23] I'll take my leave.
C. FRED. Nay, good Sir Abraham, you shall not leave us.
PEN. My lord shall be your warrant.
ABRA. My lord shall be my warrant? Troth, I do not see that a lord's warrant is better than any other man's, unless it be to lay one by the heels. I shall stay here, and ha' my head broke, and then I ha' my mends in my own hands; and then my lord's warrant will help me to a plaister, that's all.
C. FRED. Come, come; captain, pray shake the hand of acquaintance with this gentleman: he is in bodily fear of you.
CAPT. POUTS. Sir, I use not to bite any man.
ABRA. Indeed, sir, that would show you are no gentleman. I would you would bid me be covered. I am a knight. I was knighted o'purpose to come a-wooing to Mistress Lucida, the middle sister, Sir John Worldly's second daughter, and she said she would have me, if I could make her a lady, and I can do't now. O, here she comes.
_Enter_ SIR JOHN WORLDLY, MASTER STRANGE, KATE, _and_ LUCIDA _with a willow garland_.
C. FRED. My bride will never be ready, I think. Here are the other sisters.
PEN. Look you, my lord: there's Lucida wears the willow garland for you, and will so go to church, I hear. And look you, captain, that's the merchant.
ABRA. Now doth the pot of love boil in my bosom: Cupid doth blow the fire; and---- I cannot rhyme to bosom; but I'll go reason with her.
SIR J. WOR. You'll make her jointure of that five hundred, you say, that is your inheritance, Master Strange?
STRANGE. Sir, I will.
SIR J. WOR. Kate, do you love him?
KATE. Yes, faith, father, with all my heart.
SIR J. WOR. Take hands: kiss him. Her portion is four thousand.
Good morrow, my son Count: you stay long for your bride; But this is the day that sells her, and she Must come forth like my daughter and your wife.
I pray, salute this gentleman as your brother; This morn shall make him so, and though, his habit But speak him citizen, I know his worth To be gentle in all parts. Captain!
CAPT. POUTS. Sir.
SIR J. WOR. Captain, I could have been contented well, You should have married Kate.
KATE. So could not Kate. [_Aside._]
SIR J. WOR. You have an honourable title.
A soldier is a very honourable title: A captain is a commander of soldiers; But look you, captain; captains have no money; Therefore the Worldlys must not match with captains.
CAPT. POUTS. So, sir, so.
SIR J. WOR. There are brave wars.