DOCTOR.
What stuff she utters!
JAILER.
Make curtsy; here your love comes.
Enter Wooer and Doctor come forward.
WOOER.
Pretty soul,
How do ye? That’s a fine maid; there’s a curtsy!
DAUGHTER.
Yours to command i’ th’ way of honesty.
How far is’t now to’ th’ end o’ th’ world, my masters?
DOCTOR.
Why, a day’s journey, wench.
DAUGHTER.
Will you go with me?
WOOER.
What shall we do there, wench?
DAUGHTER.
Why, play at stool-ball;
What is there else to do?
WOOER.
I am content,
If we shall keep our wedding there.