Man. These ladies, these ladies, John——
John Mood. Ah, measter, I ha' seen a little of 'em; and I find that the best——when she's mended, won't ha' much goodness to spare.
Lord Town. Well said, John. Ha! ha!
Man. I hope at least that you and your good woman agree still.
John Mood. Ay! ay! much of a muchness. Bridget sticks to me: Tho' as for her goodness—why, she was willing to come to London too——But hawld a bit! Noa, noa, says I, there may be mischief enough done without you.
Man. Why that was bravely spoken, John, and like a man.
John Mood. Ah, weast heart, were Measter but hawf the Mon that I am——Ods wookers! thof' he'll speak stawtly too sometimes——But then he conno' hawld it——no! he conno' hawld it.
Lord Town. Lady Grace.
Man. Ha! ha! ha!