What bargain?

TROTTER.
That you promised to do any thing to recover my health.

EM.
On that condition I give thee my hand.

TROTTER.
Ah, sweet Em!

[Here he offers to kiss her.]

EM.
How now, Trotter! your masters daughter?

TROTTER.
Yfaith, I aim at the fairest.
Ah, Em, sweet Em!
Fresh as the flower,
That hath pour
To wound my heart,
And ease my smart,
Of me, poor thief,
In prison bound--

EM.
So all your rhyme
Lies on the ground.
But what means this?