MAL. Mother, good mother, hear me! O good God, Now we are even, what, would you make us odd? Now, I beseech ye, for the love of Christ, To give me leave once to do what I list. I am as you were, when you were a maid; Guess by yourself how long you would have stay'd, Might you have had your will: as good begin At first as last, it saves us from much sin; Lying alone, we muse on things and things, And in our minds one thought another brings: This maid's life, mother, is an idle life, Therefore I'll be, ay, I will be a wife; And, mother, do not mistrust[334] my age or power, I am sufficient, I lack ne'er an hour; I had both wit to grant, when he did woo me, And strength to bear whate'er he can do to me. MRS BAR. Well, bold-face, but I mean to make ye stay. Go to, come from him, or I'll make ye come: Will ye not come? PHIL. Mother, I pray, forbear; This match is for my sister. MRS BAR. Villain, 'tis not; Nor she shall not be so match'd now.[335] PHIL. In troth, she shall, and your unruly hate Shall not rule us; we'll end all this debate By this begun device. MRS BAR. Ay, end what you begun! Villains, thieves, Give me my daughter! will ye rob me of her?-- Help, help! they'll rob me here, they'll rob me here! _Enter_ MASTER BARNES _and his men_. MR BAR. How now? what outcry's here? why, how now, woman? MRS BAR. Why, Goursey's son, confederate[336] with this boy, This wretch unnatural and undutiful, Seeks hence to steal my daughter: will you suffer it? Shall he, that's son to my arch-enemy, Enjoy her? Have I brought her up to this? O God, he shall not have her, no, he shall not! MR BAR. I am sorry she knows it. [_Aside_.]--Hark ye, wife, Let reason moderate your rage a little. If you examine but his birth and living, His wit and good behaviour, you will say, Though that ill-hate make your opinion bad, He doth deserve as good a wife as she. MRS BAR. Why, will you give consent he shall enjoy her? MR BAR. Ay, so that thy mind would agree with mine? MRS BAR. My mind shall ne'er agree to this agreement. _Enter_ MISTRESS GOURSEY _and_ COOMES.[337] MR BAR. And yet it shall go forward:--but who's here? What, Mistress Goursey! how knew she of this? PHIL. Frank, thy mother! FRAN. 'Sowns, where? a plague upon it! I think the devil is set to cross this match. MRS GOUR. This is the house, Dick Coomes, and yonder's [th'] light: Let us go near. How now? methinks I see My son stand hand in hand with Barnes his daughter. Why, how now, sirrah? is this time of night For you to be abroad? what have we here? I hope that love hath not thus coupled you. FRAN. Love, by my troth, mother, love: she loves me, And I love her; then we must needs agree. MRS BAR. Ay, but I'll keep her sure enough from thee. MRS GOUR. It shall not need, I'll keep him safe enough; Be sure he shall not graft in such a stock. MRS BAR. What stock, forsooth? as good a stock as thine: I do not mean that he shall graft in mine.