Bri. One should go by another, if they did well.
Whit. Tou art right now! phen didst tou ever know or hear of a shuffishient vatchment, but he did tell the clock, phat bushiness soever he had?
Bri. Nay, that’s most true, a sufficient watchman knows what a clock it is.
Whit. Shleeping or vaking: ash well as te clock himshelf, or te Jack dat shtrikes him.
Bri. Let’s enquire of master Leatherhead, or Joan Trash here.—Master Leatherhead, do you hear, master Leatherhead?
Whit. If it be a Ledderhead, tish a very tick Ledderhead, tat sho mush noish vill not piersh him.
Leath. I have a little business now, good friends, do not trouble me.
Whit. Phat, because o’ ty wrought neet-cap, and ty phelvet sherkin, man? phy! I have sheene tee in ty ledder sherkin, ere now, mashter o’ de hobby-horses, as bushy and stately as tou sheemest to be.
Trash. Why, what an you have, captain Whit? he has his choice of jerkins, you may see by that, and his caps too, I assure you, when he pleases to be either sick or employed.
Leath. God-a-mercy, Joan, answer for me.