Luce. You are merry, sir.
[Exeunt.
Manet Franklin.
Frank. Now they are sure, or never! poor Francisco,
Thou mett'st thy match, when thou durst undertake
To o'erreach me with tricks. Where's now your sumner?
'Fore heaven, I cannot but applaud my brain,
To take my daughter even against her will,
And great with child by another, her shame publish'd,
She cited to the court, and yet bestow her
On such a fortune as rich Shallow is:
Nay, that which is the masterpiece of all,
Make him believe 'tis his, though he ne'er touch'd her.
If men ne'er met with crosses in the world,
There were no difference 'twixt the wise and fools.
But I'll go meet them; when 'tis done, I fear not.
[Exit.
Enter Francisco, Parson, Shallow, Luce.
Franc. Nay, fret not now; you had been worse abus'd,
If you had married her: she never lov'd you.
Luce. I ever scorned thy folly, and hated thee; though sometimes afore my father I would make an ass of thee.
Shal. O women, monstrous women! little does her father know who has married her.
Luce. Yes, he knows the parson married me, and you can witness that.
Franc. And he shall know the parson will lie with her.