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"Fletcher's Works (1 of 10) - the Custom of the Country"

I give her to you;
And wish, she were so now, as when my lust
Forc'd you to quit the Country.
_Hip._ It is in vain
To strive with destiny, here my dotage ends,
Look up _Zenocia_, health in me speaks to you;
She gives him to you, that by divers ways,
So long has kept him from you: and repent not,
That you were once my servant, for which health
In recompence of what I made you suffer,
The hundred thousand Crowns, the City owes me,
Shall be your dower.
_Man._ 'Tis a magnificent gift,
Had it been timely given.
_Hip._ It is believe it, _Sulpitia_.
_Enter a_ Servant, _and_ Sulpitia.
_Sulp._ Madam.
_Hip._ Quick, undoe the charm;
Ask not a reason why; let it suffice,
It is my will.
_Sulp._ Which I obey and gladly. [_Exit._
_Man._ Is to be married, sayest thou?
_Ser._ So she sayes Sir,
And does desire your presence. [_They are born off in chairs._
_Man._ And tell her I'le come.
_Hip._ Pray carry them to their rest; for though already,
They do appear as dead, let my life pay for't,
If they recover not.
_Man._ What you have warranted,
Assure your self, will be expected from you;
Look to them carefully; and till the tryal,--
_Hip.


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