"I take you for what you are," says Bess, "a poor Fool."
"Nay, Niece," says Patteson, "my Brother your Father hath made me rich."
"I mean," says Bess, "you have more Wisdom than Witt, and a real Fool has neither, therefore you are only a make-believe Fool."
"Well, there are many make-believe Sages," says Patteson; "for mine owne Part, I never aim to be thoughte a Hiccius Doccius."
"A hic est doctus, Fool, you mean," interrupts Bess.
"Perhaps I do," rejoins Patteson, "since other Folks soe oft know better what we mean than we know ourselves. Alle I woulde say is, I ne'er set up for a Conjuror. One can see as far into a Millstone as other People, without being that. For Example, when a Man is overta'en with Qualms of Conscience for having married his Brother's Widow, when she is noe longer soe young and fair as she was a Score of Years ago, we know what that's a Sign of. And when an Ipswich Butcher's Son takes on him the State of my Lord Pope, we know what that's a Sign of. Nay, if a young Gentlewoman become dainty at her Sizes, and sluttish in her Apparel, we ... as I live, here comes Giles Heron, with a Fish in's Mouth."
Poor Bess involuntarilie turned her Head quicklie towards the Watergate; on which, Patteson, laughing as he lay on his Back, points upward with his Peacock's Feather, and cries, "Overhead, Mistress! see, there he goes. Sure, you lookt not to see Master Heron making towards us between the Posts and Flower-pots, eating a dried Ling?" laughing as wildly as though he were verily a Natural.
Bess, without a Word, shook the Crumbs from her Lap, and was turning into the House, when he withholds her a Minute in a perfectly altered Fashion, saying, "There be some Works, Mistress, our Confessors tell us be Works of Supererogation ... is not that the Word? I learn a long one now and then ... such as be setting Food before a full Man, or singing to a deaf one, or buying for one's Pigs a Silver Trough, or, for the Matter of that, casting Pearls before a Dunghill Cock, or fishing for a Heron, which is well able to fish for itself, and is an ill-natured Bird after all, that pecks the Hand of his Mistress, and, for all her Kindness to him, will not think of Bessy More."