A Select Collection of Old English Plays — William Hazlitt / William Carew Hazlitt

" ...] Enter Sir John Worldly, Master Strange, Kate, and Lucida with a willow garland. C. Fred. My bride will never be ready, I think. Here are the other sisters. Pen. Look you, my lord: there's Lucida wears the willow garland for you, and will so go to church, I hear. And look you, captain, that's the merchant. Abra. Now doth the pot of love boil in my bosom: Cupid doth blow the fire; and-- I cannot rhyme to bosom; but I'll go reason with her. Sir J. Wor. You'll make her jointure of that five hundred, you say, that is your inheritance, Master Strange? Strange. Sir, I will. ...]."