Dame. Who—what?
Ash. Nothing at all; where's Henry?
Henry. Here, farmer.
Ash. Thee woultn't leave us, Henry, wou't?
Henry. Leave you! What, leave you now, when by my exertion I can pay off part of the debt of gratitude I owe you? oh, no!
Ash. Nay, it were not vor that I axed, I promise thee; come, gi'us thy hand on't then. [Shaking hands.] Now, I'll tell ye. Zur Philip did send vor I about the money I do owe 'un; and said as how he'd make all straight between us——
Dame. That was kind.
Ash. Ees, deadly kind. Make all straight on condition I did turn Henry out o'my doors.
Dame. What!
Henry. Where will his hatred cease?