[They bare their heads and drink. As 1st Prentice offers the wine to the Bride, she hits him on the lips, breaking the glass.
The bride’s at cuffs.
Cand. Oh, peace, I pray thee, thus far off I stand,
I spied the error of my servants;
She called for claret, and you filled out sack;
That cup give me, ’tis for an old man’s back,
And not for hers. Indeed, ’twas but mistaken;
Ask all these else.
Guests. No faith, ’twas but mistaken.
1st Pren. Nay, she took it right enough.
Cand. Good Luke, reach her that glass of claret.
Here mistress bride, pledge me there.
Bride. Now I’ll none. [Exit.
Cand. How now?
Lod. Look what your mistress ails.