What, would you have me draw upon him, as he goes in
the street?

LANCELOT.
Not for a world, man: into the fields; for to the field he
goes, there to meet the desperate Flowerdale. Take thou
the part of Oliver my son, for he shall be my son, and marry
Lucy. Doest understand me, knave?

ARTICHOKE.
Aye, sir, I do understand you, but my young mistress might
be better provided in matching with my fellow Daffodil.

LANCELOT.
No more; Daffodil is a knave:
That Daffodil is a most notorious knave.

[Exit Artichoke.]

[Enter Weathercock.]

Master Weathercock, you come in happy time. The
desperate Flowerdale hath writ a challenge: And who think
you must answer it, but the Devonshire man, my son Oliver?

WEATHERCOCK.
Marry, I am sorry for it, good Sir Lancelot,
But if you will be ruled by me, we'll stay the fury.

LANCELOT.