Douglas. O, very well, if you mean it. (Sits on bench.)
Mary. Now, Henry, I’ve made a vow that I will never marry a man who cannot mend a shoe. I’ve just made it. And if you have any expectation of making me your wife, the sooner you learn the trade the better.
Douglas. Well, that’s a capital joke, and, egad, I’ll humor it. So here goes. (Takes up lapstone. Drops it on his toes.) O, murder! I’ve smashed my toe!
Mary. No matter. Try again.
Douglas. To smash another? No, I thank you. (Puts lapstone in lap.) There, that’s all right. (Takes up shoe, puts strap over it.) How’s that?
Mary. Beautiful. You were born to be a shoemaker.
Douglas. I hope not. (Takes pegs and hammer.) Now, to drive my first peg. (Strikes his fingers. Ned appears at doorway with pail.) O, murder! I’ve smashed my thumb!
Ned. Served you right, meddler.
Douglas. (Starts up.) Sir! What’s that?