Y. ART. O, that my wife were dead! here would I make
My second choice: would she were buried!
From out her grave this marrigold should grow,
Which, in my nuptials, I would wear with pride.
Die shall she, I have doom'd her destiny. [_Aside_.]

MRS MA. 'Tis news, Master Arthur, to see you in such a place:
How doth your wife?

Y. ART. Faith, Mistress Mary, at the point of death,
And long she cannot live; she shall not live
To trouble me in this my second choice.

_Enter_ AMINADAB _with a bill and headpiece_.

MRS MA. I pray forbear, sir, for here comes my love:
Good sir, for this time leave me; by this kiss
You cannot ask the question at my hands
I will deny you: pray you, get you gone.

Y. ART. Farewell, sweet Mistress Mary! [_Exit_.

MRS MA. Sweet, adieu!

AMIN. Stand to me, bill! and, headpiece, sit thou close!
I hear my love, my wench, my duck, my dear,
Is sought by many suitors; but with this
I'll keep the door, and enter he that dare!
Virga, be gone, thy twigs I'll turn to steel;