Corwin. Read you the names in it?
Mercy. I strove to, your worship, but I got not through the C's; there were too many of them.
Hathorne. Let the serving-woman, Nancy Fox, come hither.
[Nancy Fox makes her way to the front.
Hathorne. Nancy, I have heard that your mistress afflicts you.
Nancy. That she doth.
Hathorne. In what manner?
Nancy. She sendeth me to bed at first candlelight as though I were a babe; she maketh me to wear a woollen petticoat in winter-time, though I was not brought up to't; and she will never let me drink more than one mug of cider at a sitting, and I nigh eighty, and needing on't to warm my bones.
Corwin. Hath she ever afflicted you? Your replies be not to the point, woman.
Nancy. Your worship, she hath never had any respect for my understanding, and that hath greatly afflicted me.