Fen. Sir, will you heare me?
Page. No, good M[aster]. Fenton.
Come M[aster]. Shallow: Come sonne Slender, in;
Knowing my minde, you wrong me (M[aster]. Fenton.)
Qui. Speake to Mistris Page

Fen. Good Mist[ris]. Page, for that I loue your daughter
In such a righteous fashion as I do,
Perforce, against all checkes, rebukes, and manners,
I must aduance the colours of my loue,
And not retire. Let me haue your good will

An. Good mother, do not marry me to yond foole

Mist.Page. I meane it not, I seeke you a better husband

Qui. That's my master, M[aster]. Doctor

An. Alas I had rather be set quick i'th earth,
And bowl'd to death with Turnips

Mist.Page. Come, trouble not your selfe good M[aster].
Fenton, I will not be your friend, nor enemy:
My daughter will I question how she loues you,
And as I finde her, so am I affected:
Till then, farewell Sir, she must needs go in,
Her father will be angry

Fen. Farewell gentle Mistris: farewell Nan