Lo, here I tender thee my fealty,
To live thy duteous slave. My queen thou art,
In frowns or smiles, to give me life or death.
Oh, deign look down upon me! In thy face
Alone I look on day; it is my sun
Most bright; the which denied, no sun doth rise.
Shine out upon me, my divinity!
My gentle Widow Green! My wife to be;
My love, my life, my drooping, blushing bride!
W. Green. Sir William Fondlove, you're a fool!
Sir Wil. A fool!
W. Green. Why come you hither, sir, in trim like this?
Or rather why at all?
Sir Wil. Why come I hither?
To marry thee!
W. Green. The man will drive me mad!
Sir William Fondlove, I'm but forty, sir,
And you are sixty, seventy, if a day;
At least you look it, sir. I marry you!
When did a woman wed her grandfather?
Sir Wil. Her brain is turned!
W. Green. You're in your dotage, sir,
And yet a boy in vanity! But know
Yourself from me; you are old and ugly, sir.
Sir Wil. Do you deny you are in love with me?
W. Green. In love with thee!
Sir Wil. That you are jealous of me?
W. Green. Jealous!
Sir Wil. To very lunacy.
W. Green. To hear him!
Sir Wil. Do you forget what happened yesterday?
W. Green. Sir William Fondlove! -
Sir Wil. Widow Green, fair play! -
Are you not laughing? Is it not a jest?
Do you believe me seventy to a day?
Do I look it? Am I old and ugly? Why,
Why do I see those favours in the hall,
These ladies dressed as bridemaids, thee as bride,
Unless to marry me?
[Knock.
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