PHIL. God send ye both good speed!
God's Lord, my mother! Stand aside,
And closely too, lest that you be espied.
[Enter MISTRESS BARNES.]
MRS BAR. Who's there?
PHIL. Mother, 'tis I.
MRS BAR. You disobedient ruffian, careless wretch,
That said your father lov'd me but too well?
I'll think on't, when thou think'st I have forgot it:
Who's with thee else?—How now, minion? you!
With whom? with him!—Why, what make you here, sir,
[Discovers FRANCIS and MALL.]
And thus late too? what, hath your mother sent ye
To cut my throat, that here you be in wait?—
Come from him, mistress, and let go his hand.—
Will ye not, sir?
FRAN. Stay, Mistress Barnes, or mother—what ye will;
She is[329] my wife, and here she shall be still.
MRS BAR. How, sir? your wife! wouldst thou my daughter have?
I'll rather have her married to her grave.[330]
Go to; be gone, and quickly, or I swear
I'll have my men beat ye for staying here.
PHIL. Beat him, mother! as I am true[331] man,
They were better beat the devil and his dam.