Har. So be it, seraphic lady, when your honour shall think it meet and convenient so to do.
Spark. 'Gad I'm sure none but a chaplain could speak so, I think.
Alith. Let me tell you, sir, this dull trick will not serve your turn; though you delay our marriage, you shall not hinder it.
Har. Far be it from me, munificent patroness, to delay your marriage; I desire nothing more than to marry you presently, which I might do, if you yourself would; for my noble, good-natured, and thrice generous patron here would not hinder it.
Spark. No, poor man, not I, faith.
Har. And now, madam, let me tell you plainly nobody else shall marry you; by Heavens! I'll die first, for I'm sure I should die after it.
Lucy. How his love has made him forget his function, as I have seen it in real parsons!
Alith. That was spoken like a chaplain too? now you understand him, I hope.
Spark. Poor man, he takes it heinously to be refused; I can't blame him, 'tis putting an indignity upon him, not to be suffered; but you'll pardon me, madam, it shan't be; he shall marry us; come away, pray madam.