Tho. Your weasel face must needs be ferretting
About the Farthing-ale;
Do as I bid ye,
Or by this light—
Hyl. Come then.
Thom. Stand close and mark me.
Fran. All this forc'd foolery will never do it.
Enter Alice and Mary.
Ali. I hope we bring ye health, Sir: how is't with ye?
Ma. You look far better trust me, the fresh colour
Creeps now again into his cheeks.
Ali. Your enemy
I see has done his worst. Come, we must have ye
Lusty again, and frolick man; leave thinking.
Ma. Indeed it does ye harm, Sir.
Fran. My best visitants,
I shall be govern'd by ye.