Gandelin. Help me down with the pail, husband. This new milk, with the cakes, will make an excellent supper: but, mercy on us, how they are burnt! black as my shoe; they have not once been turned: you oaf, you lubber, you lazy loon—
Alfred. Indeed, dame, I am sorry for it: but my mind was full of sad thoughts.
Gubba. Come, wife, you must forgive him; perhaps he is in love. I remember when I was in love with thee——
Gandelin. You remember!
Gubba. Yes, dame, I do remember it, though it is many a long year since; my mother was making a kettle of furmety—
Gandelin. Pr’y thee, hold thy tongue, and let us eat our suppers.
Alfred. How refreshing is this sweet new milk, and this wholesome bread!
Gubba. Eat heartily, friend. Where shall we lodge him, Gandelin?
Gandelin. We have but one bed you know; but there is fresh straw in the barn.
Alfred (aside). If I shall not lodge like a king, at least I shall lodge like a soldier. Alas! how many of my poor soldiers are stretched on the bare ground!