Math. So think not I, sir.
Del. But so tink esh oder demoisella.
Math. Nay, I'll lay my love to your command,
That my sisters think not so. How say you, sister Mall?
Why how now, gentlemen, is this your talk?
What, beaten in plain field! Where be your maids?
Nay, then I see their loving humour fades,
And they resign their interest up to me;
And yet I cannot serve for all you three:
But lest two should be mad, that I love one,
You shall be all alike, and I'll love none.
The world is scant, when so many jackdaws
Hover about one corse with greedy paws.
If needs you'll have me, stay till I am dead;
Carrion for crows, Mathea for her Ned;
And so farewell. We sisters do agree
To have our wills, but ne'er to have you three. [Exeunt.
Del. Madame, attendez, madame—is she allé?
Do she mocque de vous in such sort?
Van. O de pestilence! O, if dat io can neit de se Englese sprek vel, ic sel her fader seg how is to pass gecomen.
Enter Pisaro.
Alv. Ne parlate: see here, signors, de father.
Pis. Now, friends, now, gentlemen, how speeds your work?
Have you not found them shrewd, unhappy girls?
Van. Master Pisaro, de dochter Maistris Laurentia, call de dyel, den ass, for dat ic can neit English spreken.