Fra. Swones, where? a plague uppon it! 250
I thinke the devill is set to crosse this match.
Mi. Go. This is the house, Dick Coomes, and yonders light:
Let us go neere. How now? me thinkes I see
My sonne stand hand in hand with Barnes his daughter.—
Why, how now, sirra? is this time of night 255
For you to be abroad? what have we heere?
I hope that love hath not thus coupled you.
Fra. Love, by my troth, mother, love: she loves me,
And I love her; then we must needs agree.