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'Seven brawls y' have brought me into, the woman's voice came from under her hood, 'this weary journey. He ran to her stirrup and clutched her glove to his forehead. 'Y'ave calmed me, he said. 'Your voice shall ever calm me. She uttered a hopeless 'Oh, aye, and then, 'Where be we? They had entered a desolate region of clipped yews, frozen fountains, and high, trimmed hedges.
Ah, my Erminia, might I hope at last To share the pity of that lovely Breast, By slow degrees I might approach that Throne, Where now the blest Philander reigns alone: Perhaps in time my Passion might redeem That now too faithful Heart y'ave given to him; Do but forbear to hear his amorous Tales, Nor from his moving Eyes learn what he ails: A Fire that's kindled cannot long survive, If one add nought to keep the flame alive.
"And why the devil didn't you come?" exclaimed Abraham, looking at him in angry surprise. "'Cos why, Mr. Woodstock? Well, I'll tell yer just the bloomin' truth, an' charnce it. I loss the key out o' my pocket, through 'avin' a hole in it, so I thought as 'ow I'd best just say nothink about neither Slimy nor his room, an' there y'ave it!" Abraham was out of the shop again on the instant.
"W'at 'll y'ave, lady?" he said as he skirled a plate and a glass of ice-water along the oil-cloth with exquisite skill, slapped a knife and fork and spoon alongside, and flipped her a check to be punched as she ordered, and a fly-frequented bill of fare to order from. Kedzie was stumped by the array of dishes.
"You never said you was coming isn't the' a lot of things? that lion's killed three men I've spent my tuppence an' look here." He pulled from his pocket two egg-cups, with pink moss-roses on them. "I got these from that stall where y'ave ter get them marbles in them holes. An' I got these two in two goes-'aepenny a go-they've got moss-roses on, look here. I wanted these."
Sir, I'm an angry Boy But yet can bear much from a Brother's Mouth; Y'ave lost your sleep: pray, Sir, go home and seek it. Bel. Home! Flaunt. Pray Heaven this young virtuous Fellow don't spoil all. Sir, shall I send for a Scrivener to draw the Settlement you promis'd me? Bel. Do so, and I'll order him to get it ready. Char. A Settlement! On whom? This Woman, Sir? Bel. Yes, on this Woman, Sir.
Shall she be made a prey, and I permit it, Who only have the interest to forbid it? Alcan. What mean you, Sir? Phi. Force the bold Ravisher to resign my Right. Alcander, is not she my Wife, and I his Prince? Alcan. 'Tis true, Sir: And y'ave both power and justice on your side; And there are times to exercise 'em both. Phi. Fitter than this, Alcander? Alcan.
His Mein and Person, but 'bove all his Humour, That surly Pride, though even to me addrest, Does strangely well become him. Oli. May I believe this? Am. Not if you mean to speak on't, But I shall soon enough betray my self. Enter Falatius with a patch or two on his Face. Falatius, welcome from the Wars; I'm glad to see y'ave scap'd the dangers of them. Fal. Oli. That's not so well, believe me.
"Well, if y'ave 'ad it ivir so bad, yer 'xperience aint every one's," retorted Peke. "If one fly gits into the soup, that don't argify that the hull pot 's full of 'em. An' there's more good wimin than bad takin' 'em all round an' includin' 'op pickers, gypsies an' the like.
Her heart hardened; but then she stooped and took up her dish. "I'll have it," she said. "Yer'll do me the favour, like?" he said. "Yer'd better spit in it, like yer do when y'ave something give yer." Mrs. Morel paid him the fivepence in a cold manner. "I don't see you give it me," she said. "You wouldn't let me have it for fivepence if you didn't want to."
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