Char. Gued deed, and so I have! Ya men make sa mickle ado about ens Eyes, ways me, I’s ene tir’d with sick-like Complements.
Wild. Ah, if you give us wounds, we must complain.
Char. Ye may ene keep out a harms way then.
Wild. Oh, we cannot; or if we cou’d, we wou’d not.
Char. Marry, and I’s have ene a Song tol that tune, Sir.
Wild. Dear Creature, let me beg it.
Char. Gued faith, ya shall not, Sir, I’s sing without entreaty.
SONG.
_Ah, Jenny, gen your Eyes do kill,
You’ll let me tell my Pain;
Gued Faith, I lov’d against my Will,
But wad not break my Chain.
I ence was call’d a bonny Lad,
Till that fair Face of yours
Betray’d the Freedom ence I had,
And ad my bleether Howers.
But noo ways me like Winter looks,
My gloomy showering Eyne,
And on the Banks of shaded Brooks
I pass my wearied time.
I call the Stream that gleedeth on,
To witness if it see,
On all the flowry Brink along,
A Swain so true as lee_.