Hem. Mistress? Look forth Souldiers.
Woolf. What are you Sirrah?
Bo. Truly all is left
Of a poor Boor, by day-light, by night no body,
You might have spar'd your Drum, and Guns, and Pikes too
For I am none that will stand out Sir, I.
You may take me in with a walking Stick,
Even when you please, and hold me with a packthred.
Hem. What woman was't you call'd to?
Bo. Woman! none Sir.
Woolf. None! did you not name Mistress?
Bo. Yes, but she's
No woman yet: she should have been this night,
But that a Beggar stole away her Bridegroom,
Whom we were going to make hue and cry after;
I tell you true Sir, she should ha' been married to day;
And was the Bride and all; but in came Clause,
The old lame Beggar, and whips up Mr Goswin
Under his arm; away with him as a Kite,
Or an old Fox would swoop away a Gosling.
Hem. 'Tis she, 'tis she, 'tis she: Niece?
Ger. Ha!
Hem. She Sir,
This was a noble entrance to your fortune,
That being on the point thus to be married,
Upon her venture here, you should surprise her.