Care. Faith, it must be some new trick; for thou art so beaten at the old one, 'twill neither please thee nor her; besides, I mean to teach her that myself.
Plea. I shall never be perfectly quiet in my mind till I see somebody as angry as myself: yet I have some consolation, when I think on the wise plot that killed the coachman. How the plague, red cross, and halbert has cut their fingers that designed it! their anger will be perfect. Secret says they are coming, and that the Lady Loveall has given 'em the alarm.
Enter Sad and Constant.
Wild. And see where the parties come!—storms and tempests in their minds! their looks are daggers.
Plea. Servant, what, you're melancholy, and full of wonder! I see you have met the news.
Sad. Yes, madam; we have heard a report that will concern both your judgment and your honour.
Plea. Alas, sir! we're innocent; 'tis mere predestination.
Con. All weddings, Master Sad, you know, go by chance, like hanging.
Plea. And, I thank my stars, I have 'scaped hanging. To ha' been his bride had been both.
Con. This is not like the promise you made us yesterday.