Page 1417 - Shakespeare - Vol. 4

GAOLER

Very well.

DAUGHTER
She is horribly in love with him, poor beast, [60]
But he is like his master, coy and scornful.

GAOLER
What dowry has she?

DAUGHTER
Some two hundred bottles,

And twenty strike of oats; but he’ll ne’er have her.
He lisps in’s neighing able to entice
A miller’s mare. He’ll he the death of her. [65]

DOCTOR
What stuff she utters!

GAOLER
Make curtsy, here your love comes.

WOOER
[comes forward]

Pretty soul,
How do ye? That’s a fine maid; there’s a curtsy!

DAUGHTER
Yours to command i’th’way of honesty.
How far is’t now to th’end o’th’world, my masters? [70]

DOCTOR

Why, a day’s journey, wench.

DAUGHTER

[to Wooer]
Will you go with me?