Then saith she, while a light leaps out o' her tearful eyes, like as when the sun doth shine suddenly through April rain—saith she, as she were breathing her life into th' words,
"Methinks I be there too."
And also did I understand her, how that she meant that to be lying in th' arms o' him she loved, after all those weary years, was like being in heaven; but he questions her.
"How, lass?" saith he. "Where dost thou think thou art? Thou art in thy true love's arms," saith he.
"Ay, there is heaven," she saith.
And I stole away to get th' babe some kickshaws i' th' village, that they twain might be alone together.
Well, well, all that was two year ago, comrade—two year ago; and now that lass o' mine hath a babe o' her own, and as valiant a rogue as ever bellowed. Thou must come and sup with us to-night. Na, na, I'll take no refusal—dost hear? I will not. And a word o' persuasion i' thy ear, comrade: Mistress Lemon hath been dead this twelvemonth, comrade. Ah ha! Wilt a-come the now? That's well. And thou shalt hear that lass o' mine troll thee "Jog on, jog on," and "Mistress mine, where art thou roaming?" and "Listen, Robin, while I woo." Come, comrade, come. But stay; let's crack another drink together ere we go. Joel! What there! Joel, I say! Another quart o' sack for Master Turnip!