Mrs. Gardner. No, William. I’ve no eye for musk, nor nose to smell at it either till you’ve spoken the word that I require.
William. Best let things bide as they are, Mother.
Mrs. Gardner. I’ll leave you no rest till you do as I wish, William. I’m got an old woman, and ’tis hard I should be denied in aught that I’ve set my heart upon.
William. Please to set it upon something different, Mother, for I’m not a marrying man, and John he’ll tell you the same thing.
Mrs. Gardner. John! I’m sick of the very name of him. I can’t think how ’tis that you can lower yourself by being so close with a common farm hand, William.
William. Ah, ’twould be a rare hard matter to find the equal to John, Mother. ’Tis of gold all through, and every bit of him, that he is made. You don’t see many like John these days, that’s the truth.
Mrs. Gardner. Well, then, John, won’t be here much longer, for we shan’t have anything to give him if things go on like this.
William. I’d wed forty wives sooner than lose John—and that I would.
Mrs. Gardner. I’m not asking you to wed forty. ’Tis only one.
William. And that one?