FRANK. How's this; you would not make my daughter a whore, would you? This is but to try if you can stir my choler: you wits have strange tricks, do things over night when you are merry, and then deny 'em. But stay, here she comes alone; step aside, she shall not see us. [_They step aside._ LUCE. Ah, my dear Shallow, thou need'st not have made Such haste, my heart thou know'st was firm enough To thee; but I may blame my own fond love, That could not deny thee. SHAL. She's with child indeed; it swells. FRANK. You would not believe me. 'Tis a good wench: she does it handsomely. [_Aside._ LUCE. But yet I know, if thou hadst been thyself, thou wouldst ne'er have offered it; 'twas drink that made thee. SHAL. Yes, sure, I was drunk when I did it, for I had forgot it. I lay my life 'twill prove a girl, because 'twas got in drink. LUCE. I am ashamed to see anybody. FRANK. Alas, poor wretch! go comfort her. Luce! SHAL. Sweetheart! nay, never be ashamed. I was a little too hasty, but I'll make thee amends; we'll be married presently. FRANK. Be cheery, Luce; you were man and wife before; it wanted but the ceremony of the church, and that shall be presently done. SHAL. Ay, ay, sweetheart, as soon as may be. FRANK. But now I think on't, son Shallow, your wedding must not be public, as we intended it. SHAL. Why so? FRANK. Because I would not have people take notice of this fault: we'll go to church, only we three, the minister and the clerk--that's witnesses enough; so, the time being unknown, people will think you were married before. SHAL. But will it stand with my worship to be married in private? FRANK. Yes, yes; the greatest do it, when they have been nibbling beforehand; there is no other way to save your bride's credit. SHAL. Come, let's about it presently. FRANK. This is closed up beyond our wishes. [_Exeunt._ _Manet_ LUCE. LUCE. I am undone, unless thy wit, Francisco, Can find some means to free me from this fool, Who would have thought the sot could be so gross To take upon him what he never did, To his own shame? I'll send to my Francisco, And I must lose no time; for I am dead, If not delivered from this loathed bed. FOOTNOTES: [415] ["A celebrated political register, as Mr Chalmers aptly terms it, which was now much used. Mention of it is made by almost all the writers of Jonson's age. As it treated of contemporary events, treaties, sieges, &c., in a dead language, it was necessarily driven to the use of unknown and unwarranted terms."--_Gifford's Ben Jonson_, ii. 530, _note_.