“I will take no less for it, young gentlewoman; it has caused me a world of trouble.”
“I never saw a worse mended kettle. I say, brother, your hair is white.”
“’Tis nature; your hair is black; nature, nothing but nature.”
“I am young, brother; my hair is black—that’s nature: you are young, brother; your hair is white—that’s not nature.”
“I can’t help it if it be not, but it is nature after all; did you never see grey hair on the young?”
“Never! I have heard it is true of a grey lad, and a bad one he was. Oh, so bad.”
“Sit down on the grass, and tell me all about it, sister; do to oblige me, pretty sister.”
“Hey, brother, you don’t speak as you did—you don’t speak like a gorgio, you speak like one of us, you call me sister.”
“As you call me brother; I am not an uncivil person after all, sister.”
“I say, brother, tell me one thing, and look me in the face—there—do you speak Rommany?”