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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.