Myr. Nay, if you go to that, Squire, where have you been, pray?
Squ. Rich. Rich. Why, when I fun' at yow were no loikly to come whoam, I were ready to hong my sel——so John Moody, and I, and one o' your lasses have been——Lord knows where——a seeing o' the soights.
Myr. Well and pray what have you seen, Sir?
Squ. Rich. Flesh! I cawnt tell, not I——seen every thing I think. First there we went o' top o' the what d'ye call it? there, the great huge stone post, up the rawnd and rawnd stairs, that twine and twine about, just an as thof it were a cork screw.
Myr. O, the Monument! well, and was it not a fine sight from the top of it?
Squ. Rich. Sight, Miss! I know no'—I saw nowght but smoak and brick housen, and steeple tops——then there was such a mortal ting-tang of bells, and rumbling of carts and coaches, and then the folks under one look'd so small, and made such a hum, and a buz, it put me in mind of my mother's great glass bee-hive in our garden in the country.
Myr. I think, Master, you give a very good account of it.
Squ. Rich. Ay! but I did no like it: for my head—my head—began to turn——so I trundled me dawn stairs ugain like a round trencher.
Myr. Well! but this was not all you saw, I suppose?
Squ. Rich. Noa! noa! we went after that and saw the lions, and I lik'd them better by hawlf; they are pure grim devils; hoh, hoh! I touke a stick, and gave one of them such a poke o' the noase——I believe he would ha' snapt my head off, an he could ha' got me. Hoh! hoh! hoh!