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The question is, wo't are you 'anging round 'ere for?" Now, possibly deceived by my pacific attitude, or inspired by the bright eyes of the trim maid-servant, he seized me, none too gently, by the collar, to the horrified dismay of the Imp. "Nay, but I will, give thee moneys " "You are a-going to come up to the 'ouse with me, and no blooming nonsense either; d'ye 'ear?"
"Like a'nuff I hab," said the vender warily. "De pint am, howsumeber, isn't de cakes good?" "Yes, they seem better every day, but they are not the same every day. I reckon some one's coaching you." "Law sakes, Massa, wo't you mean by coachin' me?" "Do you make the cakes?" was asked pointblank. "Now, Massa, you's gittin' too cur'us. Wot de Scripter say? Ask no questions fer conscience' sake."
I say as it's a wonder to me, wo't wi' the interest on the mortgage I 'old on the place, and one thing and another, it's a wonder to me as she's kept her 'ead above water so long. But mark me, Parsons, mark me, she'll be selling again soon, and next time it'll be lock, stock, and barrel, Parsons!" "Well, I don't 'old wi' women farmers, myself!" nodded Parsons.
By dint of much exertion and more splashing, he presently ranged alongside in answer to my hail. "Wo't a haccident then?" he inquired. "Something of the sort," I nodded. "Will you be so kind as to tow us to the bank yonder?" "Hanythink to hoblige!" he grinned, and having made fast the painter, proceeded to splash us to terra-firma.
Ay, ay, Madam, to the Comfort of many a hoping Coxcomb: but Lette, Rogue Lette thou wo't not make me free o'th' City a second time, wo't thou entice the Rogues with the Twire and the wanton Leer the amorous Simper that cries, come, kiss me then the pretty round Lips are pouted out he, Rogue, how I long to be at 'em! well, she shall never go to Church more, that she shall not. L. Ful.
You know my Julia play'd me e'en such another Prank as your false one is going to play you, and married old Sir Cautious Fulbank here i'th' City; at which you know I storm'd, and rav'd, and swore, as thou wo't now, and to as little purpose. There was but one way left, and that was cuckolding him. Bel. Well, that Design I left thee hot upon. Gay.
And was it thus you mourn'd my Funeral? Let. I will not justify my hated Crime: But Oh! remember I was poor and helpless, And much reduc'd, and much impos'd upon. Bel. And Want compell'd thee to this wretched Marriage did it? Let. 'Tis not a Marriage, since my Bellmour lives; The Consummation were Adultery. I was thy Wife before, wo't thou deny me? Bel.
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