FLOWERDALE. What? why then I have six pieces of velvet sent me; I’ll give you a piece, Uncle: for thus said the letter,—a piece of Ashcolour, a three piled black, a colour de roi, a crimson, a sad green, and a purple: yes, yfaith.
UNCLE.
From whom should you receive this?
FLOWERDALE. From who? why, from my father; with commendations to you, Uncle, and thus he writes: I know, said he, thou hast much troubled thy kind Uncle, whom God-willing at my return I will see amply satisfied. Amply, I remember was the very word, so God help me.
UNCLE.
Have you the letter here?
FLOWERDALE. Yes, I have the letter here, here is the letter: no, yes, no;—let me see, what breeches wore I a Saturday? let me see: a Tuesday my Salamanca; a Wednesday my peach colour Satin; a Thursday my Vellour; a Friday my Salamanca again; a Saturday—let me see—a Saturday,—for in those breeches I wore a Saturday is the letter: O, my riding breeches, Uncle, those that you thought been velvet; in those very breeches is the letter.
UNCLE.
When should it be dated?
FLOWERDALE.
Marry, Decimo tertio septembris—no, no—decimo tertio Octobris;
Aye, Octobris, so it is.
UNCLE. Decimo tertio Octobris! and here receive I a letter that your father died in June: how say you, Kester?
FATHER. Yes, truly, sir, your father is dead, these hands of mine holp to wind him.
FLOWERDALE.
Dead?