Ware. How!
Plot. Wonder not, sir: you
Were married but in jest. 'Twas no church-form,
But a fine legend out of Rab'lais.
Sale. Troth,
This reverend weed cast off, I'm a lay poet, [Salewit undisguises.
And cannot marry, unless't be in a play—
In the fifth act or so; and that's almost
Worn out of fashion too.
Mis. Sea. These are the two
That show'd my son. [Aside.
Mis. Hol. Let's have our money back. [Aside.
Plot. But, uncle, for the jointure you have made her
I hope you'll not retract. That and three parts
Of your two ships, besides what you will leave
Us at your death, will make a pretty stock
For young beginners.
Ware. Am I o'erreach'd so finely?
Sea. But are you married, sir, in earnest?
Plot. Troth
We have not been abed yet, but may go,
And no law broken.
Sea. Then I must tell you, sir,
Y' have wrong'd me; and I look for satisfaction.