Brew. Thy uncle's state! how, for heaven's love?
Rob. By his late marriage to the wealthiest widow
That London had; who has not only made him
Lord of herself, but of her whole estate.
Brew. Mother-o'-pearl! I rejoice in't: this news
Is yet but young.
Rob. Fame will soon speak it loud, sir.
Brew. This may help happily to make all peace:
But how, have you parley'd with my daughter, sir?
Enter Jane.
Jane. Very well, father; we spake something, but did nothing at all: I requested him to pull me a Catherine pear, and had I not looked to him, he would have mistook and given me a poperin: and to requite his kindness I plucked him a rose, and had almost pricked my finger for my pains.
Brew. Well-said, wag; are there sparks kindled?
Quench 'em not for me: 'tis not a father's roughness,
Nor doubtful hazard of an uncle's kindness
Can me deter. I must to your father;
Where (as a chief affair) I'll once more move,
And (if I can) return him back to love. [Exeunt.
Enter Doctor and Stephen's Wife.
Wife. Sir, you see I have made a speedy choice
And as swift a marriage: be it as it will,
I like the man: if his qualities afflict me,
I shall be happy in't.