_ Ees, zur.
_Sir Philip._ On condition, I say, you instantly turn out that boy--that
Henry.
_Ash._ Turn out Henry!--Ha, ha, ha! Excuse my tittering, zur; but you
bees making your vun of I, zure.
_Sir Philip._ I am not apt to trifle--send him instantly from you, or
take the consequences.
_Ash._ Turn out Henry! I do vow I shou'dn't knaw how to zet about it--I
should not, indeed, zur.
_Sir Philip._ You hear my determination. If you disobey, you know what
will follow--I'll leave you to reflect on it. [_Exit._
_Ash._ Well, zur, I'll argufy the topic, and then you may wait upon me,
and I'll tell ye. [_Makes the motion of turning out._]--I shou'd be
deadly awkward at it, vor zartain--however, I'll put the case--Well! I
goes whiztling whoam--noa, drabbit it! I shou'dn't be able to whiztle a
bit, I'm zure. Well! I goas whoam, and I zees Henry zitting by my wife,
mixing up someit to comfort the wold zoul, and take away the pain of her
rheumatics--Very well! Then Henry places a chair vor I by the vire zide,
and says---"Varmer, the horses be fed, the sheep be folded, and you have
nothing to do but to zit down, smoke your pipe, and be happy!" Very
well! [_Becomes affected.
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