_Mist. T._ What should one do? Is there no law for one that marries a woman's daughter against her will? How shall we punish him, madam? 71 _Ge._ As I am a lady, an't would snow, we'd so pebble 'hem with snow-balls as they come from church; but, sirrah Frank Quicksilver. _Qu._ Ay, madam. _Ge._ Dost remember since thou and I clapt what-d'ye-call'ts in the garret? _Qu._ I know not what you mean, madam. _Ge._ _His_[58] _head as white as milk, all flaxen was his hair;_ _But now he is dead, and laid in his bed,_ 80 _And never will come again._ God be at your labour! _Enter_ TOUCHSTONE, GOLDING, MILDRED, _with rosemary_.[59] _Pe._ Was there ever such a lady? _Qu._ See, madam, the bride and bridegroom! _Ge._ God's my precious! God give you joy, mistress. What lack you? Now out upon thee, baggage! My sister married in a taffeta hat! Marry, hang you! Westward with a wanion[60] t'ye! Nay, I have done wi' ye, minion, then, i'faith; never look to have my countenance any more, nor anything I can do for thee. Thou ride in my coach, or come down to my castle! fie upon thee! I charge thee in my ladyship's name, call me sister no more. 93 _To._ An't please your worship, this is not your sister: this is my daughter, and she calls me father, and so does not your ladyship, an't please your worship, madam. _Mist. T._ No, nor she must not call thee father by heraldry, because thou makest thy prentice thy son as well as she. Ah! thou misproud prentice, darest thou presume to marry a lady's sister? 100 _Go._ It pleased my master, forsooth, to embolden me with his favour; and though I confess myself far unworthy so worthy a wife (being in part her servant, as I am your prentice) yet (since I may say it without boasting) I am born a gentleman, and by the trade I have learned of my master (which I trust taints not my blood), able, with mine own industry and portion, to maintain your daughter, my hope is, heaven will so bless our humble beginning, that in the end I shall be no disgrace to the grace with which my master has bound me his double prentice. 111 _To._ Master me no more, son, if thou think'st me worthy to be thy father. _Ge._ Son! Now, good Lord, how he shines! and you mark him, he's a gentleman! _Go._ Ay, indeed, madam, a gentleman born. _Pe._ Never stand o' your gentry, Master Bridegroom; if your legs be no better than your arms, you'll be able to stand upright on neither shortly. 119 _To._ An't please your good worship, sir, there are two sorts of gentlemen. _Pe._ What mean you, sir? _To._ Bold to put off my hat to your worship---- _Pe._ Nay, pray forbear, sir, and then forth with your two sorts of gentlemen.