Clara. [Scornfully.] His lordship! As if I should be stirred by him!
Joan. [Humbly.] Who might it be, mistress, if I may ask?
Clara. ’Tis one who would never look upon me with thoughts of love if I went to him as I am now, Joan.
Joan. I can’t rightly understand you, mam.
Clara. My case is just the same as yours, Joan. You say that your fine gentlemen would not look upon a serving maid.
Joan. I’m certain of it, mistress.
Clara. And the man I—I love will never let his heart go out to mine with the heaviness of all these riches lying between us.
Joan. I count that gold do pave the way for most of us, mistress.
Clara. So for this once, I will leave the clear high road, Joan. And you and I will take a path that is set with thorns. Pray God they do not wound us past healing at the end of our travel.
Joan. O mistress, ’twill be a lightsome journey for me.