Fent.
I see I cannot get thy father's love;
Therefore no more turn me to him, sweet Nan.

Anne.
Alas, how then?

Fent.
Why, thou must be thyself.
He doth object I am too great of birth;
And that, my state being gall'd with my expense,
I seek to heal it only by his wealth:
Besides these, other ^note bars he lays before me,—
My riots past, my wild societies;
And tells me 'tis a thing impossible
I should love thee but as a property.

Anne.
May be he tells you true.

Fent.
No, heaven so speed me in my ^note time to come!
Albeit I will confess thy father's wealth
Was the first motive that I woo'd thee, Anne:
Yet, wooing thee, I found thee of more value
Than stamps in gold or sums in sealed bags;
And 'tis the very riches of thyself
That now I aim at.

Anne.
Gentle Master Fenton,
Yet seek my father's love; still seek it, sir:
If opportunity ^note and humblest suit
Cannot attain it, why, then,—hark you hither! [They converse apart. ^noteEnter Shallow, Slender, and Mistress Quickly.

Shal.

Break their talk, Mistress Quickly: my kinsman shall speak for himself.

Slen.

I'll make a shaft or a bolt on't: 'slid, 'tis but venturing.

Shal.

Be not dismayed.

Slen.

No, she shall not dismay me: I care not for that, but that ^note I am afeard.

Quick.

Hark ye; Master Slender would speak a word with you.

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

Quick.

And how does good Master Fenton? Pray you, a word with you.

Shal.

She's coming; to her, coz. O boy, thou hadst a father!

Slen.

I had a father, Mistress Anne;—my uncle can tell you good jests of him. Pray you, uncle, tell Mistress Anne the jest, how my father stole two geese out of a pen ^note, good uncle.

Shal.

Mistress Anne, my cousin loves you.

Slen.

Ay, that I do; as well as I love any woman in Gloucestershire.

Shal.

He will maintain you like a gentlewoman.

Slen.

Ay, that I will, come cut and long-tail, under the degree of a squire.

Shal.

He will make you a hundred and fifty pounds jointure.

Anne.

Good Master Shallow, let him woo for himself.

Shal.

Marry, I thank you for it; I thank you for that good comfort. She calls you, coz: I'll leave you.

Anne.

Now, Master Slender,—

Slen.

Now, good Mistress Anne,—

Anne.

What is your will?

Slen.

My will! od's heartlings, that's a pretty jest indeed! I ne'er made my will yet, I thank heaven; I am not such a sickly creature, I give heaven praise.

Anne.

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

Slen.

Truly, for mine own part, I would little or nothing with you. Your father and my ^note uncle hath ^note made motions:

if it be my luck so; if not, happy man be his dole! They can tell you how things go better than I can: you may ask ^note your father; here he comes.