Nur. He's a bed, Madam.
And has an ague, he says.
Lur. I'll be his Physitian.
La. We must afoot then.
Lur. E'er the Priest ha done
Toby shall wait upon you with his Coach,
And make your Flanders Mares dance back agen we'ye,
I warrant you Madam you are mortified,
Your sute shall be granted too.
Wild. Make, make room afore the[re].
La. Home forward with glad hearts, home child.
Ma. I wait you.
Ha. On joyfully, the cure of all our grief,
Is owing to this pretty little Thief. [Exeunt omnes.