Lamb. Your father, Mistress Jane? I hope you have observation in you, and know our humours; we come not a-wooing to your father.
Speed. Experience must bear with folly; thou art all innocent, and thy name is Lambskin; grave sapience guides me, and I care not a pin for thy squibs and thy crackers. My old dry wood shall make a lusty bonfire when thy green chips shall lie hissing in the chimney-corner. Remember, mistress, I can make you a lady by mine own experience.
Lamb. Prythee, do not stand troubling the gentlewoman with thy musty sentences, but let her love be laid down betwixt us like a pair of cudgels, and into whose hands she thrusts the weapons first, let him take up the bucklers.[93]
Speed. A match between us.
Jane. Must I be stickler, then?
Lamb. We are both to run at the ring of your setting-up, and you must tell us who deserves most favour.
Jane. But will you stand both at my disposing?
Lamb. Else let me never stand but in a pillory.
Jane. You love me both, you say?
Speed. By this hand!