TROTTER.
Ah, mark the device--
For thee, my love,
Full sick I was,
In hazard of my life.
Thy promise was
To make me whole,
And for to be my wife.
Let me enjoy
My love, my dear,
And thou possess
Thy Trotter here.

EM.
But I meant no such matter.

TROTTER.
Yes, woos, but you did. I'll go to our Parson, Sir John, and
he shall mumble up the marriage out of hand.

EM.
But here comes one that will forbid the Banes.

[Here enters Manvile to them.]

TROTTER.
Ah, Sir, you come too late.

MANVILE.