Eld. [Aside] 'Tis Stephen, my own man! And he doesn't know me! O, I am changed from his ain lassie! He despises me! Waddler! O!
Ste. Chirk up, old duck. When I find my lass——
[Re-enter Orson]
Ors. Mistress Eldra, what do you gabbling here and my lady calling you?
[Exit Eldra with Orson]
Ste. Eldra? By Pharo's ghost! Let me see—ten years. It might be—yes—her very complexion—the pert eye—the little foot—the canny twitch to her lips—and her man drowned at sea. Well, I'm pickled. She has built up such a Solomon's glory picture o' me that plain Stephen Godfrey will never get another chance. He had an arm! Ha! Did I? An eye like Sallydeen! A leg like Lion-heart! Ha! [Struts up and down] But now I'm father Longbeard. Well, I'll shave off this weeping willow tree anyhow.
[Re-enter Eldra]
Eld. Good sir, are you here yet?
Ste. [Aside] Good sir! Methinks I grow in favor. Ay, sweet madam.