FRANCES. No, by my troth, not I: a gentlewoman, and a married gentlewoman too, to be companions to cooks and kitchen-boys! not I, yfaith: I scorn that.
CIVET.
Why, I do not mean thou shalt, sweet heart; thou seest
I do not go about it: well farewell to you. God’s pity,
Master Weathercock, we shall have your company too?
WEATHERCOCK.
With all my heart, for I love good cheer.
CIVET.
Well, God be with you all. Come, Frances.
FRANCES. God be with you, father, God be with you, Sir Arthur, Master Oliver, and Master Weathercock, sister, God be with you all: God be with you, father, God be with you every one.
[Exeunt Civet and Frances.]
WEATHERCOCK.
Why, how now, Sir Arthur? all a mort? Master Oliver,
how now man?
Cheerly, Sir Lancelot, and merrily say,
Who can hold that will away?
LANCELOT.
Aye, she is gone indeed, poor girl, undone.
But when they’ll be self-willed, children must smart.
ARTHUR.
But, sir, that she is wronged, you are the chiefest cause,
Therefore tis reason, you redress her wrong.
WEATHERCOCK.
Indeed you must, Sir Lancelot, you must.