1st Peas. Ay? How, dame? How? Where will the money come from?
Guta. God knows—
1st Peas. And you do not.
Guta. Why, but last winter,
When all your stacks were fired, she lent you gold.
1st Peas. Well—I’ll be generous: as the times are hard,
Say, if I take your letter, will you promise
To marry me yourself?
Guta. Ay, marry you,
Or anything, if you’ll but go to-day:
At once, mind. [Giving him the letter.]
1st Peas. Ay, I’ll go. Now, you’ll remember?
Guta. Straight to her ladyship at Kitzingen.
God and His saints deal with you, as you deal
With us this day. [Exit.]
2d Peas. What! art thou fallen in love promiscuously?
1st Peas. Why, see, now, man; she has her mistress’ ear;
And if I marry her, no doubt they’ll make me
Bailiff, or land-steward; and there’s noble pickings
In that same line.