Lady W. How strangely thou art taken with this wedding,
Before thou see'st it!
Euph. And then, let me see:
To fit them for an Hymeneal song,
Instead of those so high and spirited strains,
Which the old Grecian lovers us'd to sing
When lusty bridegrooms rifled maidenheads,
I'll sing a quiet dirge, and bid them sleep
In peaceful rest, and bid the clothes, instead
Of earth, lie gently on their aged bones——[7]
Free. Thou'lt ne'er have done. Well, gallants, 'tis almost
The time that calls us: I must needs be gone.
Lady W. We'll wait upon you, sir.
Free. Your servant, madam.
[Exeunt Lady Whimsey, Freeman, Dotterel, and Barnet.
Art. Stay, cousin, I have a request to thee.
Euph. Thou canst not fear that I'll deny it thee.
Speak it: 'tis done.
Art. Why, then, in short, 'tis this—
Old Earthworm, cousin, has a son (they say)
Lately come home; his name, as I have heard,
Is Theodore.
Euph. Yes, I have heard of him.