John. Who else should it be, Susan?
Susan. Well, John—sometimes I think there’s not much amiss with you.
John. O Susan, them be grand words.
Susan. But then again—I do think as you be getting too much like Master William.
John. And a grander gentleman than he never went upon the earth.
Susan. Cut and clipped and trimmed and dry as that box tree yonder. And you be getting sommat of the same fashion about you, John.
John. Then make me differenter, Susan, you know the way.
Susan. I’m not so sure as I do, John.
John. Wed me come Michaelmas, Susan.
Susan. And that I’ll not. And what’s more, I’m not a-going to stop here talking foolish with you any longer. I’ve work to do within. [Susan goes off.