Joan. [After a moment.] What more could the farm hand do, mistress?
Clara. He would clasp on his bells and dance in the Morris on certain days, Joan.
Joan. ’Tis to be hoped as there’ll be some dancing or something to liven us all up a bit down here.
Clara. Why, Joan, I believe you’re tired already of the country.
Joan. ’Tis so powerful quiet and heavy like, mistress.
Clara. ’Tis full of sounds. Listen to the doves in the trees and the lambs calling from the meadow.
Joan. I’d sooner have the wheels of the coaches and the cries upon the street, and the door bell a ringing every moment and fine gentlemen and ladies being shewn up into the parlour.
Clara. [Stretching out her arms.] O how glad I am to be free of all that. And most of all, how glad to be ridded of one person.
Joan. His lordship will perhaps follow us down here, mistress.
Clara. No, I have forbidden it. I must have a month of quiet, and he is to wait that time for his answer.