Rose. Oh God, it pincheth me; what will you do?
Hans. (Aside.) Your father’s presence pincheth, not the shoe.
L. Mayor. Well done; fit my daughter well, and she shall please thee well.
Hans. Yaw, yaw, ick weit dat well; forware, ’tis un good skoo, ’tis gimait van neits leither; se euer, mine here.[89]
Enter a Prentice.
L. Mayor. I do believe it.—What’s the news with you?
Prentice. Please you, the Earl of Lincoln at the gate
Is newly ’lighted, and would speak with you.
L. Mayor. The Earl of Lincoln come to speak with me?
Well, well, I know his errand. Daughter Rose,
Send hence your shoemaker, dispatch, have done!
Syb, make things handsome! Sir boy, follow me. [Exit.
Hans. Mine uncle come! Oh, what may this portend?
Sweet Rose, this of our love threatens an end.
Rose. Be not dismayed at this; whate’er befall,
Rose is thine own. To witness I speak truth,
Where thou appoint’st the place, I’ll meet with thee.
I will not fix a day to follow thee,
But presently steal hence. Do not reply:
Love which gave strength to bear my father’s hate,
Shall now add wings to further our escape. [Exeunt.