Dame. So am I, Lady Handy.
Ash. Don't ye take it unkind I han't a buss'd thee yet—meant no slight indeed.
[Kisses her.
Lady H. Oh! shocking!
[Aside.
Ash. No harm I do hope, zur.
Sir Abel. None at all.
Ash. But dash it, Lady Nelly, what do make thee paint thy vace all over we rud ochre zoo? Be it vor thy spouse to knaw thee?—that be the way I do knaw my sheep.
Sir Abel. The flocks of fashion are all marked so, Farmer.
Ash. Likely! Drabbit it! thee do make a tightish kind of a ladyship zure enow.