Margret. What likes my lord is pleasing unto me.
Bungay. Then hand-fast hand, and I wil to my booke. 140
Bacon. What sees my lord now?
Edward. Bacon, I see the lovers hand in hand,
The frier readie with his portace there
To wed them both: then am I quite undone.
Bacon, helpe now, if e'er thy magicke servde!— 145
Helpe, Bacon; stop the marriage now,
If divels or nigromancie may suffice,
And I will give thee fortie thousand crownes.