“What!” said the other, again perturbed: “you are not crying off?”
“No”—he shrugged—“O, faith, no! But, ’tis uphill work.”
“The looser rein to give yourself. A plague on distaste! That is to put on the brake uphill.”
“A common creature, nevertheless, to appear my more natural choice—and when she is by. I think Kate must hold me despicable.”
“Is the skit so common?”
“Troth, you’d think it: though, to do her justice, she makes one laugh.”
“Still, though against your inclinations, you play the part?”
“O! I play it.”
“And with what effect so far?”
“None that you promised—unless rank mutiny lay in your scheme. She seems determined to show me that, of all men she encounters, I stand least in her regard.”