O. ART. I say it is not best.
O. LUS. Mass, you say well, sir, and so say I too.
O. ART. But shall we lose our labour to come hither,
And, without sight of our two children,
Go back again? nay, we will in, that's sure.
O. LUS. In, quotha! do you make a doubt of that;
Shall we come thus far, and in such post-haste,
And have our children here, and both within,
And not behold them e'er our back-return?
It were unfriendly and unfatherly.
Come, Master Arthur, pray you follow me.
O. ART. Nay, but hark you, sir, will you not knock?
O. LUS. Is't best to knock?
O. ART. Ay, knock in any case.
O. LUS. 'Twas well you put it in my mind to knock,
I had forgotten it else, I promise you.
O. ART. Tush, is't not my son's and your daughter's door,
And shall we two stand knocking? Lead the way.
O. LUS. Knock at our children's doors! that were a jest.
Are we such fools to make ourselves so strange,
Where we should still be boldest? In, for shame!
We will not stand upon such ceremonies.