Pardon, good father! good my mother, pardon!

Alas, I had rather be set quick i' the earth
And bowl'd to death with turnips!

Good mother, do not marry me to yond fool.

I mean, Master Slender, what would you with me?

What is your will?

Now, Master Slender,--

Good Master Shallow, let him woo for himself.

I come to him.
Aside
This is my father's choice.
O, what a world of vile ill-favor'd faults
Looks handsome in three hundred pounds a-year!

Gentle Master Fenton,
Yet seek my father's love; still seek it, sir:
If opportunity and humblest suit
Cannot attain it, why, then,--hark you hither!

May be he tells you true.

Alas, how then?

Not I, sir; pray you, keep on.

Ay, indeed, sir.

I think there are, sir; I heard them talked of.

I pray you, sir, walk in.

I may not go in without your worship: they will not
sit till you come.

The dinner attends you, sir.

Will't please your worship to come in, sir?

The dinner is on the table; my father desires your
worships' company.