Rose. No matter for that, sir; I came honestly by it.
Bal. I question it much. [Aside.
Rose. And see here, sir, a fine Turkey-shell snuff-box, and fine mangere: see here. [Takes Snuff affectedly.] The captain learned me how to take it with an air.
Bal. Oh ho! the captain! now the murder's out. And so the captain taught you to take it with an air?
Rose. Yes; and give it with an air too. Will your worship please to taste my snuff? [Offers the Box affectedly.
Bal. You are a very apt scholar, pretty maid! And pray, what did you give the captain for these fine things?
Rose. He's to have my brother for a soldier, and two or three sweethearts I have in the country; they shall all go with the captain. Oh! he's the finest man, and the humblest withal! Would you believe it, sir? he carried me up with him to his own chamber, with as much fam-mam-mil-yararality, as if I had been the best lady in the land.
Bal. Oh! he's a mighty familiar gentleman as can be.
Enter Plume, singing.
| Plume. | But it is not so |
| With those that go | |
| Thro' frost and snow—— | |
| Most apropos, | |
| My maid with the milking pail. |