Ge. I pray thee, sweet knight, let me; I do so long to
dress up thy castle afore thou comest. But I marle how my modest sister occupies herself this morning, that she cannot wait on me to my coach, as well as her mother.
Qu. Marry, madam, she’s married by this time to prentice Golding. Your father, and some one more, stole to church with ’hem in all the haste, that the cold meat left at your wedding might serve to furnish their nuptial table. 63
Ge. There’s no base fellow, my father, now; but he’s e’en fit to father such a daughter: he must call me daughter no more now: but “madam,” and “please you, madam;” and “please your worship, madam,” indeed. Out upon him! marry his daughter to a base prentice!
Mist. T. What should one do? Is there no law for one that marries a woman’s daughter against her will? How shall we punish him, madam? 71
Ge. As I am a lady, an’t would snow, we’d so pebble ’hem with snow-balls as they come from church; but, sirrah Frank Quicksilver.
Qu. Ay, madam.
Ge. Dost remember since thou and I clapt what-d’ye-call’ts in the garret?
Qu. I know not what you mean, madam.
Ge. His[58] head as white as milk, all flaxen was his hair;
But now he is dead, and laid in his bed, 80
And never will come again.
God be at your labour!