EM.
On that condition I give thee my hand.
TROTTER.
Ah, sweet Em!
[Here he offers to kiss her.]
EM.
How now, Trotter! your masters daughter?
TROTTER.
Yfaith, I aim at the fairest.
Ah, Em, sweet Em!
Fresh as the flower,
That hath pour
To wound my heart,
And ease my smart,
Of me, poor thief,
In prison bound--
EM.
So all your rhyme
Lies on the ground.
But what means this?
TROTTER.
Ah, mark the device--
For thee, my love,
Full sick I was,
In hazard of my life.
Thy promise was
To make me whole,
And for to be my wife.
Let me enjoy
My love, my dear,
And thou possess
Thy Trotter here.
EM.
But I meant no such matter.
TROTTER.
Yes, woos, but you did. I'll go to our Parson, Sir John, and
he shall mumble up the marriage out of hand.
EM.
But here comes one that will forbid the Banes.
[Here enters Manvile to them.]
TROTTER.
Ah, Sir, you come too late.
MANVILE.
What remedy, Trotter?
EM.
Go, Trotter, my father calls.
TROTTER.
Would you have me go in, and leave you two here?
EM.
Why, darest thou not trust me?
TROTTER.
Yes, faith, even as long as I see you.
EM.
Go thy ways, I pray thee heartily.
TROTTER.
That same word (heartily) is of great force. I will go. But
I pray, sir, beware you come not too near the wench.
[Exit Trotter.]
MANVILE.
I am greatly beholding to you.
Ah, Maistres, sometime I might have said, my love,
But time and fortune hath bereaved me of that,
And I, an object in those gratious eyes,
That with remorse earst saw into my grief,
May sit and sigh the sorrows of my heart.
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