Som. Good-morrow, Master Bridegroom.
War. Come, give thee joy: mayst thou live long and happy
In thy fair choice!
Frank. I thank ye, gentlemen; kind Master Warbeck,
I find you loving.
War. Thorney, that creature,—much good do thee with her!—
Virtue and beauty hold fair mixture in her;
She’s rich, no doubt, in both: yet were she fairer,
Thou art right worthy of her. Love her, Thorney;
’Tis nobleness in thee, in her but duty.
The match is fair and equal; the success
I leave to censure. Farewell, Mistress Bride!
Till now elected, thy old scorn deride. [Exit.
Som. Good Master Thorney—
Car. Nay, you shall not part till you see the barrels run a-tilt, gentlemen. [Exit with Somerton.
Sus. Why change you your face, sweetheart?
Frank. Who, I? for nothing.
Sus. Dear, say not so; a spirit of your constancy
Cannot endure this change for nothing.
I have observed strange variations in you.