Meg. [With obeisance to Hernda] 'Tis Heaven's honor! I have left the earth!
Hud. You waste your art. She's in the milk-maid humor.
Would marry Hob. [Exit, lower right]
Meg. The Señor Hob? He says
You'll marry him? [Hernda laughs]
You care not if I die!
Her. You'll live, my lord.
Meg. You'll marry Hob. I die!
Her. He is not Hob. That is my father's mock
Because he's poor.
Meg. [In hope] Ah, poor?
Her. A beggarly
Ten millions,—not a penny more.
Meg. Ten millions!
Her. But that's my joy. I would not wed for gold.