Page. Well what remedy Feston, heaven give thee joy! What cannot be eschew'd, must be embrac'è Fal. When night-dogs run, all sorts of deer are chas'd. Eva. I will dance and eat plums at your wedding Mrs. Page. Well, I will must no further:- Heaven give you many, many merry days! Ford. Let it be so:-Sir John, To master Brook you yet shall hold you word: For be, to-night, shall lie with Mrs. Ford. [Exeunt. |