wedding raiments.

LANCELOT.
Why, no more but this: first get your assurance made,
touching my daughter's jointer; that dispatched, we will
in two days make provision.

OLIVER.
Why, man, chil have the writings made by tomorrow.

LANCELOT.
Tomorrow be it then: let's meet at the king's head in
fish street.

OLIVER.
No, fie, man, no, let's meet at the Rose at Temple-Bar,
That will be nearer your counsellor and mine.

LANCELOT.
At the Rose be it then, the hour nine:
He that comes last forfeits a pint of wine.

OLIVER.
A pint is no payment, let it be a whole quart or nothing.

[Enter Artichoke.]

ARTICHOKE.
Master, here is a man would speak with Master Oliver: he
comes from young Master Flowerdale.