Y. Lord W. No, nor care not; as she brews, so let her bake; so said the ancient proverb. But, lady, mine that shall be, your father hath wished[379] me to appoint the day with you.
Reb. What day, my lord?
Y. Lord W. Why, of marriage; or as the learned historiographer[380] writes, Hymen's holidays, or nuptial ceremonious rites.
Reb. Why, when would you appoint that, my lord?
Y. Lord W. Why, let me see, I think the tailor may despatch all our vestures in a week: therefore, it shall be directly this day se'ennight.
P. Ser. God give you joy!
Reb. Of what, I pray, you impudence? This fellow will go near to take his oath that he hath seen us plight faiths together; my father keeps him for no other cause than to outswear the truth. My lord, not to hold you any longer in a fool's paradise, nor to blind you with the hopes I never intend to accomplish, know, I neither do, can, or will love you.
Y. Lord W. How! not love a lord? O indiscreet young woman! Indeed, your father told me how unripe I should find you: but all's one, unripe fruit will ask more shaking before they fall than those that are; and my conquest will seem the greater still.
[Aside.]
P. Ser. Afore God, he is a most unanswerable lord, and holds her to't, i' faith.