Ann. See, see, see! the man i’ th’ moon has built a new windmill; and what running there’s from all quarters of the city to learn the art of grinding!
M. Saw. Ho, ho, ho! I thank thee, my sweet mongrel.
Ann. Hoyda! a pox of the devil’s false hopper! all the golden meal runs into the rich knaves’ purses, and the poor have nothing but bran. Hey derry down! are not you Mother Sawyer?
M. Saw. No, I am a lawyer.
Ann. Art thou? I prithee let me scratch thy face; for thy pen has flayed-off a great many men’s skins. You’ll have brave doings in the vacation; for knaves and fools are at variance in every village. I’ll sue Mother Sawyer, and her own sow shall give in evidence against her.
M. Saw. Touch her. [To the Dog, who rubs against her.
Ann. O, my ribs are made of a paned hose, and they break![448] There’s a Lancashire hornpipe in my throat; hark, how it tickles it, with doodle, doodle, doodle, doodle! Welcome, sergeants! welcome, devil!—hands, hands! hold hands, and dance around, around, around. [Dancing.
Re-enter Old Banks, with Cuddy, Ratcliffe, and Countrymen.
Rat. She’s here; alas, my poor wife is here!
O. Banks. Catch her fast, and have her into some close chamber, do; for she’s, as many wives are, stark mad.