FORESIGHT, MISS PRUE
MISS PRUE O father, why will you let him go? Won't you make him to be my husband?
FORESIGHT Mercy on us, what do these lunacies portend? Alas! he's mad, child, stark wild.
MISS PRUE What, and must not I have e'er a husband, then? What, must I go to bed to nurse again, and be a child as long as she's an old woman? Indeed but I won't. For now my mind is set upon a man, I will have a man some way or other. Oh, methinks I'm sick when I think of a man; and if I can't have one, I would go to sleep all my life: for when I'm awake it makes me wish and long, and I don't know for what. And I'd rather be always asleep than sick with thinking.
FORESIGHT Oh, fearful! I think the girl's influenced too. Hussy, you shall have a rod.
MISS PRUE A fiddle of a rod, I'll have a husband; and if you won't get me one, I'll get one for myself. I'll marry our Robin the butler; he says he loves me, and he's a handsome man, and shall be my husband: I warrant he'll be my husband, and thank me too, for he told me so.