Sir Chr. Yes, but he would have left her for you; [To Narcissa.] and you for his interest; and sold you, perhaps, as he has this poor girl to me, as a requital for preserving his life.
Nar. How!
Enter Trudge and Wowski.
Trudge. Come along, Wows! take a long last leave of your poor mistress: throw your pretty, ebony arms about her neck.
Wows. No, no;—she not go; you not leave poor Wowski. [Throwing her arms about Yarico.]
Sir Chr. Poor girl! A companion, I take it!
Trudge. A thing of my own, sir. I cou'dn't help following my master's example in the woods——Like master, like man, sir.
Sir Chr. But you would not sell her, and be hang'd to you, you dog, would you?
Trudge. Hang me, like a dog, if I would, sir.
Sir Chr. So say I to every fellow that breaks an obligation due to the feelings of a man. But, old Medium, what have you to say for your hopeful nephew?