Arn. They have a Custom In this most beastly Country, out upon't.
Rut. Let's hear it first.
Arn. That when a Maid is contracted
And ready for the tye o'th' Church, the Governour,
He that commands in chief, must have her Maiden-head,
Or Ransom it for mony at his pleasure.
Rut. How might a man atchieve that place? a rare Custom! An admirable rare Custom: and none excepted?
Arn. None, none.
Rut. The rarer still: how could I lay about me, In this rare Office? are they born to it, or chosen?
Arn. Both equal damnable.
Rut. Me thinks both excellent, Would I were the next heir.
Arn. To this mad fortune Am I now come, my Marriage is proclaim'd, And nothing can redeem me from this mischief.
Rut. She's very young.