"Alas, sir, the more is my grief; but I ne'er doubted him: and he said it was a comfort to him to have them in his bosom."
"Y'are a very foolish lass."
"Indeed I was, sir. But trouble teaches the simple."
"'Tis a good answer. Well, foolish or no, y'are honest. I had shown ye more respect at first, but I thought y'had been his leman, and that is the truth."
"God forbid, sir! Denys, methinks 'tis time for us to go. Give me my letter, sir!"
"Bide ye! bide ye! be not so hot, for a word! Natheless, wife, methinks her red cheek becomes her."
"Better than it did you to give it her, my man."
"Softly, wife, softly. I am not counted an unjust man thof I be somewhat slow."
Here Richart broke in. "Why, mistress, did ye shed your blood for our Gerard?"
"Not I, sir. But maybe I would."