Sir Philip. I hope a profitable one?
Ash. Zometimes it be, zur. But thic year it be all t'other way as 'twur—but I do hope, as our landlords have a tightish big lump of the good, they'll be zo kind hearted as to take a little bit of the bad.
Sir Philip. It is but reasonable—I conclude then you are in my debt.
Ash. Ees, zur, I be—at your zarvice.
Sir Philip. How much?
Ash. I do owe ye a hundred and fifty pounds—at your zarvice.
Sir Philip. Which you can't pay?
Ash. Not a varthing, zur—at your zarvice.
Sir Philip. Well, I am willing to give you every indulgence.
Ash. Be you, zur? that be deadly kind. Dear heart! it will make my auld dame quite young again, and I don't think helping a poor man will do your honour's health any harm—I don't indeed, zur—I had a thought of speaking to your worship about it—but then, thinks I, the gentleman, mayhap, be one of those that do like to do a good turn, and not have a word zaid about it—zo, zur, if you had not mentioned what I owed you, I am zure I never should—should not, indeed, zur.