Fellow. A cup of small ale, I don’t care if I do.
Widow. Margaret, take the young man down, and treat him with what the house affords.
Fellow. Your servant, Madam. But I staid to eat as I come along, just upon the Heath yonder; or else, to say the truth, I had been here sooner. [Thank my stars, thought I, thou didst.] A piece of powdered beef was upon the table, at the sign of the Castle, where I stopt to inquire for this house: and so, thoff I only intended to wet my whistle, I could not help eating. So shall only taste of your ale; for the beef was woundily corned.
Prating dog! Pox on thee! thought I.
He withdrew, bowing and scraping.
Margaret, whispered I, in a female voice [whispering out of the closet, and holding the parlour-door in my hand] get him out of the house as fast as you can, lest they come from church, and catch him here.
Peggy. Never fear, Sir.
The fellow went down, and it seems, drank a large draught of ale; and Margaret finding him very talkative, told him, she begged his pardon, but she had a sweetheart just come from sea, whom she was forced to hide in the pantry; so was sure he would excuse her from staying with him.
Ay, ay, to be sure, the clown said: for if he could not make sport, he would spoil none. But he whispered her, that one ’Squire Lovelace was a damnation rogue, if the truth might be told.
For what? said Margaret. And could have given him, she told the widow (who related to me all this) a good dowse of the chaps.