pginternal" tag="{http://www.w3.org/1999/xhtml}a">[24] home!” and yet I knew one longer; “And ever she cried, Shoot[24] home,” fa, la, ly, re, lo, la!

Mi. Well, sister, those that scorn their nest, oft fly with a sick wing.    188

Ge. Bow-bell!

Mi. Where titles presume to thrust before fit means to second them, wealth and respect often grow sullen, and will not follow. For sure in this, I would for your sake I spake not truth: Where ambition of place goes before fitness of birth, contempt and disgrace follow. I heard a scholar once say, that Ulysses, when he counterfeited himself mad, yoked cats[25] and foxes and dogs together to

draw his plough, whiles he followed and sowed salt; but sure I judge them truly mad, that yoke citizens and courtiers, tradesmen and soldiers, a goldsmith’s daughter and a knight. Well, sister, pray God my father sow not salt too.    201

Ge. Alas! poor Mildred, when I am a lady, I’ll pray for thee yet, i’faith: nay, and I’ll vouchsafe to call thee sister Mill still; for though thou art not like to be a lady as I am, yet sure thou art a creature of God’s making; and mayest peradventure to be saved as soon as I (does he come?). “And ever and anon she doubled in her song.” Now, lady’s my comfort, what profane ape’s here? Tailor, Poldavy, prithee, fit it, fit it: is this a right Scot?[26] Does it clip close, and bear up round?    210

Po. Fine and stiffly, i’faith; ’twill keep your thighs so cool, and make your waist so small; here was a fault in your body, but I have supplied the defect, with the effect of my steel instrument, which, though it have but one eye, can see to rectify the imperfection of the proportion.

Ge. Most edifying tailor! I protest you tailors are most sanctified members, and make many crooked things go upright. How must I bear my hands? Light? light?    219

Po. O ay, now you are in the lady-fashion, you must do all things light. Tread light, light. Ay, and fall so: that’s the Court-amble.

[She trips about the stage.

Ge. Has the Court ne’er a trot?

Po. No, but a false gallop, lady.

Ge. And if she will not go to bed—

[Cantat.

Be. The knight’s come, forsooth.

Enter Sir Petronel, Master Touchstone, and Mistress Touchstone.

Ge. Is my knight come? O the Lord, my band! Sister, do my cheeks look well? Give me a little box o’ the ear, that I may seem to blush; now, now! So, there, there, there! here he is: O my dearest delight! Lord, Lord! and how does my knight?    231

To. Fie! with more modesty.

Ge. Modesty! why, I am no citizen now—modesty! Am I not to be married? y’are best to keep me modest, now I am to be a lady.

Sir Pe. Boldness is good fashion and courtlike.

Ge. Ay, in a country lady I hope it is, as I shall be. And how chance ye came no sooner, knight?

Sir Pe. ’Faith, I was so entertained in the progress with one Count Epernoum, a Welsh knight; we had a match at balloon[27] too with my Lord Whachum, for four crowns.    242

Ge. At baboon? Jesu! you and I will play at baboon in the country, knight.

Sir Pe. O, sweet lady! ’tis a strong play with the arm.

Ge. With arm or leg, or any other member, if it be a Court-sport. And when shall’s be married, my knight?

Sir Pe. I come now to consummate it, and your father may call a poor knight son-in-law.    250

M. To. Sir, ye are come; what is not mine to keep I must not be sorry to forego. A 100 li. land her grandmother left her, ’tis yours; herself (as her mother’s gift) is yours. But if you expect aught from me, know, my hand and mine eyes open together; I do not give blindly. Work upon that now.

Sir Pe. Sir, you mistrust not my means? I am a knight.

To. Sir, sir, what I know not, you will give me leave to say I am ignorant of.    260

Mist. To. Yes, that he is a knight; I know where he had money to pay the gentlemen-ushers and heralds their fees. Ay, that he is a knight, and so might you have been too, if you had been aught else than an ass, as well as some of your neighbours. And I thought you would not ha’ been knighted, as I am an honest woman, I would ha’ dubbed you myself. I praise God I have wherewithal. But as for your daughter——

Ge. Ay, mother, I must be a lady to-morrow; and by your leave, mother (I speak it not without my duty, but only in the right of my husband), I must take place of you, mother.    272

Mist. To. That you shall, lady-daughter, and have a coach as well as I too.

Ge. Yes, mother. But by your leave, mother (I speak it not without my duty, but only in my husband’s right), my coach-horses must take the wall of your coach-horses.

To. Come, come, the day grows low; ’tis supper-time;

use my house; the wedding solemnity is at my wife’s cost; thank me for nothing but my [un]willing blessing; for I cannot feign, my hopes are faint. And, sir, respect my daughter; she has refused for you wealthy and honest matches, known good men, well-moneyed, better