Glo. No, indeed, Sir, not I.
Hau. Why then the Wench is tippled, that’s all, a small Fault.
Olin. O, in the name of Goodness, Sir, what are you?
Glo. Ay, Ay, Sir, ’tis that she desires to know.
Olin. Who are you, Sir?
Hau. Why who should I be, but he that’s to be your Master anon?
Glo. Yes, who should he be but Myn heer Haunce van Ezel?
Olin. What, did you come in at the Door?
Hau. Yes, marry did I; what, do you think I creep in like through the Key-holes?
Dor. Nay, nay, this cannot be the Bridegroom.