John. Why, master, courting baint a thing what wants much learning, that’s the truth.
William. ’Tis all new to me, John. I’m blessed if I know how to commence. Why, the thought of it at once sends me hot all over; and then as cold again.
John. You start and get your clothes on, master. ’Tis half the battle—clothes. What a man cannot bring out of his mouth of a Saturday will fall out easy as anything on the Sunday with his best coat to his back.
William. No, John. The clothes won’t help me in this fix. You must tell me how to start once I get to the farm and am by the door.
John. You might take a nosegay with you, master.
William. I might. And yet, ’tis a pity to cut the blooms for naught.
John. I always takes a nosegay with me, of a Saturday night.
William. Why, John, who is it that you are courting then?
John. ’Tis that wench Susan, since you ask me, master. But not a word of it to th’ old mistress.
William. I’ll not mention it, John.