2920He lispes in's neighing able to entice

2921A Millars Mare,

2922Hee'l be the death of her.

2923Doctor. What stuffe she utters?

2924Iaylor. Make curtsie, here your love comes.

2925Wooer. Pretty soule

2926How doe ye? that's a fine maide, ther's a curtsie.

2927Daugh. Yours to command ith way of honestie;

2928How far is't now to'th end o'th world my Masters?

2929Doctor. Why a daies Iorney wench.

2930Daugh. Will you goe with me?

2931Wooer. What shall we doe there wench?

2932Daugh. Why play at stoole ball,

2933What is there else to doe?

2934Wooer. I am content

2935If we shall keepe our wedding there.

2936Daugh. Tis true

2937For there I will assure you, we shall finde

2938Some blind Priest for the purpose, that will venture

2939To marry us, for here they are nice, and foolish;

2940Besides my father must be hang'd to morrow

2941And that would be a blot i'th businesse

2942Are not you Palamon?

2943Wooer. Doe not you know me?

2944Daugh. Yes, but you care not for me; I have nothing

2945But this pore petticoate, and too corse Smockes.

2946Wooer. That's all one, I will have you.

2947Daugh. Will you surely?

2948Wooer. Yes by this faire hand will I.

2949Daugh. Wee'l to bed then.

2950Wooer. Ev'n when you will.

2951Daugh. O Sir, you would faine be nibling.

2952Wooer. Why doe you rub my kisse off?

2953Daugh. Tis a sweet one,

2954And will perfume me finely against the wedding.

2955Is not this your Cosen Arcite?

2956Doctor. Yes sweetheart,

2957And I am glad my Cosen Palamon