No offence, aunt.
LADY. Offence? As I'm a person, I'm ashamed of you. Fogh! How
you stink of wine! D'ye think my niece will ever endure such a
Borachio? You're an absolute Borachio.
SIR WIL. Borachio?
LADY. At a time when you should commence an amour, and put your
best foot foremost -
SIR WIL. 'Sheart, an you grutch me your liquor, make a bill.--Give
me more drink, and take my purse. [Sings]:-
Prithee fill me the glass,
Till it laugh in my face,
With ale that is potent and mellow;
He that whines for a lass
Is an ignorant ass,
For a bumper has not its fellow.
But if you would have me marry my cousin, say the word, and I'll
do't. Wilfull will do't, that's the word. Wilfull will do't,
that's my crest,--my motto I have forgot.
LADY. My nephew's a little overtaken, cousin, but 'tis drinking
your health. O' my word, you are obliged to him -
SIR WIL. IN VINO VERITAS, aunt. If I drunk your health to-day,
cousin,--I am a Borachio.--But if you have a mind to be married, say
the word and send for the piper; Wilfull will do't.
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