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"Is she neaw comely? ay, comelier far than fat, fubsy Sukey here or than Nancy Holt, wi' her yallo hure an frecklet feace an yet ye ca' her a witch." "Ey ca' thee one, theaw feaw little whean an the dowter an grandowter o' one an that's more," cried Nancy. "Freckles i' your own feace, ye mismannert minx."
"Eigh, we may allowance fo her feaw tempers," observed Susan Worseley; "fo we knoa that ailments an deformities are sure to may folk fretful." "Eigh, there it is," cried Jennet, sharply. "My high shoulthers an sma size are always thrown i' my feace. Boh ey'st grow tall i' time, an get straight eigh straighter than yo, Suky, wi' your broad back an short neck boh if ey dunna, whot matters it?
"Oh, he's a feaw teyke a varra feaw teyke," replied Ashbead; "wi' a feace as black as a boggart, sooty shiny hewr loike a mowdywarp, an' een loike a stanniel. Boh for running, rostling, an' throwing t' stoan, he'n no match i' this keawntry. Ey'n triet him at aw three gams, so ey con speak.
Aw have th' rheumatic all o'er mo, nearly; an' it leads one a feaw life. Yo happen never had a touch on it, had yo?" "Never." "Well; yo're weel off. When is this war to end, thinken yo?" "Nay; that's a very hard thing to tell." " Well, we mun grin an' abide till it's o'er, aw guess. It's a mad mak o' wark. But it'll happen turn up for best i'th end ov o'."
"They are both on yon boards. Jem is the man in the tree, and Elizabeth is the owd crone in the red kirtle and high-crowned hat. Yo win knoa her feaw feace when yo pluck off her mask." "The monk is gone," cried Nicholas; "I have kept my eyes steadily fixed on him, and he has melted into air. What has he to do with the Devices?"
Ey'n teach yo' to ca' me feaw names," cried the enraged hostess, laying on with greater fury. "Help! help!" roared Potts. At this moment Nicholas returned from the stables, and, seeing how matters stood, flew to the attorney's assistance. "Come, come, Bess," he cried, laying hold of her arm, "you've given him enough. What has Master Potts been about? Not insulting you, I hope?"
"Simon Blackadder an ey ha' had mony a tussle together efore this, fo he's a feaw tempert felly, an canna drink abowt fightin', boh he has awlus found me more nor his match. Boh save us, your reverence, what were the ill-favort gullions ridin' after ye for? Firrups tak 'em! they didna mean to rob ye, surely?"
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