Harry.—Well, Ned, I hope you went to the Groves to meet her, did you not?
Ned.—Yes, you may be assured I did, and within a quarter of an hour after I was there, my mistress came, but her friends were not with her, as good luck would have it.
Harry.—Were not you glad of that, Ned, though I dare swear, she knew of nobody to meet her at that time.
Ned.—Yes, faith, I was very glad of it; and when we had taken a turn or two, I asked her if she would go to the cheese-cake house, and with much ado I got her to consent to go.
Harry.—Well, Ned, what discourse had you there?
Ned.—Why, faith, we were very merry. I called for some cheese-cakes, and a bottle of cider, and at last began to ask her about marrying me. She told me she heard I had a good trade, and did mind it now very well, but how I would mind it, if she should consent to marry me, was her fear. I told her she need never fear that, for marrying of her would be the only means to make me mind my business, if possible, more than I have done. I do assure you, Harry, that the servants which we call chamber-maids, stand as much upon their honour, as some of them will call it, in courting, as their mistress, nay, and more.
Harry.—Why, Ned, I have observed that all along you have called her madam whenever you named her, but I hope it is not a custom here at York, to call your chamber-maids madam at every word.
Ned.—Yes, faith we do, and they themselves call one another so, for if there be five or six of them together at the parting with one another, you shall hear them take leave of one another with, "Madam, good-night to you," says one; "Madam, your servant," says another; "Pray my service to you know who"——'Tis very true, Harry.
Harry.—How could you ever expect Ned, that such an one would make you a good wife that minded nothing but her pride.
Ned.—Well, Harry, but you are mistaken, for some of them do make very good wives and are very good housewives too.