1st Peasant. Pretty creature—or, your Majesty, whichever you choose to be called—come and dance with them, and I’ll carry your lamb.
(Exeunt, singing and dancing.)
Enter Farmer Hearty and Talbot.
Farmer. Why, young gentleman, I’m glad I happened to light upon you here, and so to hinder you from going farther astray, and set your heart at ease like.
Talb. Thanks, good farmer, you have set my heart at ease, indeed. But the truth is, they did frighten me confoundedly—more fool I.
Farm. No fool at all, to my notion. I should, at your age, ay, or at my age, just the self-same way have been frightened myself, if so be that mention had been made to me, that way, of my own mother’s having broke her leg or so. And greater, by a great deal, the shame for them that frighted you, than for you to be frighted. How young gentlemen, now, can bring themselves for to tell such lies, is to me, now, a matter of amazement, like, that I can’t noways get over.
Talb. Oh, farmer, such lies are very witty, though you and I don’t just now like the wit of them. This is fun, this is quizzing; but you don’t know what we young gentlemen mean by quizzing.
Farm. Ay, but I do though, to my cost, ever since last year. Look you, now, at yon fine field of wheat. Well, it was just as fine, and finer, last year, till a young Eton jackanapes—
Talb. Take care what you say, farmer; for I am a young Eton jackanapes.
Farm. No; but you be not the young Eton jackanapes that I’m a-thinking on. I tell you it was this time last year, man; he was a-horseback, I tell ye, mounted upon a fine bay hunter, out a-hunting, like.