Knick. Der deifel—es is so g’wiss os ich labe de Ripsy now, we wærd ’s meer doh gæ—we now coom ich ous dare shkrape?
Alice. Wann se dich doh ferwisht don bin ich g’ruineert—du musht dich arryats fershteckla—awer wo?
Knick. Yaw, wo? Sell is now de froke. Suppose ich shloop doh in den shonk ni?
Alice. Nay, doh, fershteckle dich in den claider korb, un ich deck dich tzu mit der dreckich wesh. Awer, nay, der korb is tzu klæ, di bæ sin tzu long un der shonk is der ainsich plotz. Now yusht ni doh in der shonk.
Knick. Well, doh gaits.
[Music—She directs him to the closet and quickly closes the door. Dame enters L. 2 E., dragging in Rip.]
Dame. Now, doh hob ich dich amohl derhame, un ich will aw wissa wass du tzu sawga husht for dich?
Rip. Nix, nix—gor nix—my leevy, shmarty fraw. We wennicher os mer shwezt, du waisht, we besser os ’s gait, anyhow, ich bin ’s agreed os du selwer olles sawga mawgsht wass tzu sawga is. Sell is now fair, is ’s net, my gooty leevy fraw?
Dame. Well, wo sin all de hawsa un bottreesle os du hame bringa husht wella?