Sir, I know she is: but it were pity to make poor our Land, with such a beauty to enrich another.
Arb.
Pish will she have him?
Gob.
I do hope she will not, I think she will Sir.
Arb.
Were she my Father and my Mother too, and all the names for which we think folks friends, she should be forc't to have him when I know 'tis fit: I will not hear her say she's loth.
Gob.
Heaven bring my purpose luckily to pass, you know 'tis just, she will not need constraint she loves you so.
Arb.