Is there no eloquence to touch your hearts
In this wan, wasted form—these wretched rags?
Why, look at me!
Bar.There is a certain frock,
Blue, trimmed with peach—not much the worse for wear—
That’s humbly at your service. (Curtsying mockingly.)
Bess.Spare her, pray!
Lisa. Ay, spare me, bitter hearts! Who can foresee?
A year ago, I was as one of you!
Another year, and you may be as I!