Frances. Good sir, be content,
A lawyer should make all things right and straight;
All lies but in the handling; I may prove
A wife that shall deserve your best of love.
Oliver. Take her, Throat, you have a better jewel now
Than ever. Kiss her, kiss her, man; all friends.
Lady Som. Yet, in this happy close, I still have lost
My only daughter.
W. Small. Where's thy page, Boutcher?
Enter Constantia.
Con. Here I present the page: and that all doubt
May here be cleared, here in my proper shape,
That all your joys may be complete and full,
I must make one. With pardon, gentle mother,
Since all our friends so happily are met,
Here will I choose a husband: this be the man
Whom, since I left your house in shape of page,
I still have followed.
W. Small. Foot, would I had known so much,
I would have been bold to have lain with your page.
Con. Say, am I welcome?
Bout. As is my life and soul.
Lady Som. Heaven give you joy,
Since all so well succeeds, take my consent.