OLIVER.
Aye, ha the old yellow zarved me thick trick?
Why, man, he was a promise, chil chud a had her.
Is a zitch a vox? chil look to his water, che vor him.
UNCLE.
The music plays, they are coming from the Church.
Sheriff, do your Office: fellows, stand stoutly to it.
[Enter all to the Wedding.]
OLIVER. God give you joy, as the old zaid Proverb is, and some zorrow among. You met us well, did you not?
LANCELOT. Nay, be not angry, sir, the fault is in me. I have done all the wrong, kept him from coming to the field to you, as I might, sir, for I am a Justice, and sworn to keep the peace.
WEATHERCOCK. Aye, marry, is he, sir, a very Justice, and sworn to keep the peace: you must not disturb the wedding.
LANCELOT.
Nay, never frown nor storm, sir; if you do,
I’ll have an order taken for you.
OLIVER.
Well, well, chill be quiet.
WEATHERCOCK.
Master Flowerdale! Sir Lancelot, look you who here is.
Master Flowerdale.
LANCELOT.
Master Flowerdale, welcome with all my heart.