Alice. I do not counsel that, see him reclaim'd first,
Which will not prove a miracle, yet Mary,
I am afraid 'twill vex thee horribly
To stay so long.
Mary. No, no Aunt, no, believe me.
Alice. What was your dream to-night? for I observ'd ye
Hugging of me, with good dear sweet Tom.
Mary. Fye, Aunt,
Upon my Conscience.
Alice. On my word 'tis true, Wench;
And then ye kiss'd me, Mary, more than once too,
And sigh'd, and O sweet Tom again; nay, do not blush,
Ye have it at the heart, Wench.
Mary. I'll be hang'd first,
But you must have your way.
Enter Dorothea.
Alice. And so will you too,
Or break down hedges for it. Dorothea,
The welcom'st woman living; how does thy Brother?
I hear he's turn'd a wondrous civil Gentleman
Since his short travel.
Dor. 'Pray Heaven he make it good, Alice.
Mary. How do ye friend? I have a quarrel to ye,
Ye stole away and left my company.