_Isa_. Shall be our guests.
[_BURR and FAILER throw up their caps, and cry, Vive Madam
ISABELLA!_
_Lov_. And Bibber shall make our wedding clothes without
trusting.
_Bib_. No, henceforward I'll trust none but landed men, and such
as have houses and apple-trees in the country, now I have got a place
in the custom-house.
_Fran_. Nothing vexes me, but that this flirting gentlewoman
should go before me; but I'll to the herald's office, and see whether
the queen's majesty's dresser, should not take place of any knight's
wife in Christendom.
_Bib_. Now all will out--no more, good Frances.
_Fran_. I will speak, that I will, so I will: What! shall I be a
dresser to the queen's majesty, and nobody must know on't? I'll
send Mr Church-warden word on't; and, gentlemen, when you come to St
Bride's church (if ever you come to church, gentlemen), you shall see
me in the pew that's next the pulpit; thank Mr Loveby's worship for
it.
_Lov_. Spare your thanks, good landlady; for the truth is, they
came too late, the place is gone; and so is yours, Will; but you shall
have two hundred pounds for one, if that will satisfy you.
_Fran_. This is bitter news, as they say.
_Lov_. Cheer up thy wife, Will. Where are the fiddles? A dance
should do it.
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