The better that it pleases your good worship to
ask.
FENTON. What news? How does pretty Mistress Anne?
QUICKLY. In truth, sir, and she is pretty, and honest, and
gentle; and one that is your friend, I can tell you that by
the way; I praise heaven for it.
FENTON. Shall I do any good, think'st thou? Shall I not lose
my suit?
QUICKLY. Troth, sir, all is in His hands above; but
notwithstanding, Master Fenton, I'll be sworn on a book
she loves you. Have not your worship a wart above your eye?
FENTON. Yes, marry, have I; what of that?
QUICKLY. Well, thereby hangs a tale; good faith, it is such
another Nan; but, I detest, an honest maid as ever broke
bread. We had an hour's talk of that wart; I shall never
laugh but in that maid's company! But, indeed, she is
given too much to allicholy and musing; but for you-well,
go to.
FENTON. Well, I shall see her to-day. Hold, there's money
for thee; let me have thy voice in my behalf. If thou seest
her before me, commend me.
QUICKLY. Will I? I' faith, that we will; and I will tell your
worship more of the wart the next time we have confidence;
and of other wooers.
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