Wid. Another burr! this is the cookmaid's leaving ope the door; and this is the daintiest dish she has sent in—a widgeon in Welsh sauce! Pray, let's make a merry day on't.
Ran. What! do hur keep open house? Had heard hur was widows that dwelt here: are you widows, good womans?
Wid. I want a husband, sir.[43]
Ran. Augh, Randalls comes in very good times: you keep ordinaries, hur think. What, have you set a cat before gallants there?
Jar. They will eat him for the second course. [Aside.] These are suitors to my mistress sure—things that she slights. Set your feet boldly in; widows are not caught as maids kiss—faintly, but as mastiffs fight—valiantly.
Ran. Is hur so: I pray pid hur mistress observe Randalls for valours and prave adventures?
Anc. Some beer.
Wid. Let them want nothing.
Anc. Here, widow.
Wid. I thank you, sir.