MAR. The strangers? ANTH. I' faith, he is. MATH. Faith, he shall not. Frenchman, be sure we'll pluck a crow together, Before you force me give my hand at church. MAR. Come to our father: speech this comfort finds, That we may scold out grief, and ease our minds. ANTH. Stay, stay, Marina, and advise you better. It is not force, but policy must serve. The doors are lock'd: your father keeps the key; Wherefore unpossible to 'scape away: Yet have I plotted, and devis'd a drift To frustrate your intended marriages, And give you full possession of your joys. Laurentia, ere the morning's light appear, You must play Anthony in my disguise. MATH. } Anthony, what of us? What shall we wear? MAR. } ANTH. Soft, soft, you are too forward, girls, I swear, For you some other drift devis'd must be: One shadow for a substance; this is she,-- Nay, weep not, sweets, repose upon my care, For all alike, or good or bad, shall share. You will have Harvey, you Heigham, and you Ned. You shall have all your wish, or be I dead; For sooner may one day the sea lie still, Than once restrain a woman of her will. ALL. Sweet Anthony, how shall we 'quite thy hire? ANTH. Not gifts, but your contentments I desire: To help my countrymen I cast about, For strangers' loves blaze fresh, but soon burn out. Sweet rest dwell here, and frightful fear abjure: These eyes shall wake to make your rest secure; For ere again dull night the dull eyes charms, Each one shall fold her husband in her arms; Which if it chance, we may avouch it still, Women and maids will always have their will. [_Exeunt._ SCENE II. _Enter_ PISARO _and_ FRISCO. PIS. Are wood and coals brought up to make a fire? Is the meat spitted, ready to lie down? For bake-meats I'll have none, the world's too hard. There's geese, too, now I remember me; Bid Maudlin lay the giblets in paste. Here's nothing thought upon, but what I do. Stay, Frisco, see who rings: look to the door, Let none come in, I charge, were he my father. [_Exit_ FRISCO. I'll keep them, whilst I have them. Frisco, who is it? _Re-enter_ FRISCO. FRIS. She is come, in faith. PIS. Who is come? FRIS. Mistress Sushance, Mistress Moore's daughter. PIS. Mistress Susan, ass? O, she must come in. FRIS. Hang him, if he keep out a wench: If the wench keep not out him, so it is. _Enter_ WALGRAVE _in woman's attire_. PIS. Welcome, Mistress Susan, welcome. I little thought you would have come to-night; But welcome (trust me) are you to my house. What, doth your mother mend? doth she recover? I promise you, I am sorry for her sickness. WAL. She's better than she was, I thank God for it.