Giles. Then must the living bear it.
Olive. Father, you may yet be acquitted. Plead at your trial.
Giles. Work the bellows in the face of the north wind. Oh, lass, why came you here? 'Tis worse than the stones. Talk no more to me, good lass; womenkind should meddle not with men's plans. But promise me you will wed with Paul here within three weeks.
Olive. I will never wed.
Giles. Ye will not, hey? Ye will wed with Master Paul Bayley within three weeks. 'Tis the last command your father gives thee.
Olive. Think you I can wed when you—
Giles. Ay, I do think so, lass, and so ye will.
Olive. Father, I will not. But if you plead I will, I promise you I will.
Giles. I will not, and you will. Lass, since you be here, I pray you set a stitch in this seam in my coat. I would look tidy at the trial, for thy mother's sake. Hast thou thy huswife with thee?
Olive. Yes, father.