Gan. What says fayre Bertha?
Ber. That my free will dothe bynde My love to his comandment.
Gan. Then take her, boy; we wilbe hencefourthe frends, And howsoever crosses come & goe Ile leave thee cloathes inowe for winter tyme.
Bus. Sir, I am bound to you & to my mistress,
And will so arme my servyce with delighte
That, madam, you shall counte thys maryadge yoake
The onlye lyst of pleasure.
Ber. Thats my hope: Bate me the pleasure, and, beleive it, Sir, I shall crye out oth bargayne.
Bus. Feare me not.
Gan. Come, we will have thys maryage sollempnyzd,
In which I meane to feighte with agonye
And shoe the worlde I can cast honors of
More easlye then my garments. Wisdome & thought
Most precious ever when tys dearest bought.
[Exe. all but Gab.
Gab. Suer thys should be the day of Valentyne
When everye byrd dothe coople, onlye I
Pore forlorne turtle, haveinge lost my mate,
Must dye on a bare braunche. Wytt defend me!
Youthe & my pleasures will not suffer it.
I've here contryved a letter to my frende
In myne ill brothers name. It may worke
Somethynge to gayne my wishes; at the worst
It cannot make me more then I am accurst.
And heres my messenger.—
Enter La Fue.