LAURA. And to whom are you taking them now, John? JOHN. To the lady what my master’s a-courting of, mistress. LAURA. And whom may that be, John? JOHN. Why, ’tis yourself, mistress. LAURA. Me, John? Why, I’ve never clapped eyes on Master William Gardner so far as I know of. JOHN. But he’ve clapped eyes on you, mistress—’twas at Church last Sunday. And ’tis not a bit of food, nor a drop of drink, nor an hour of sleep, as Master William have taken since. LAURA. O, you do surprise me, John? JOHN. That’s how ’tis with he, mistress. ’Tis many a year as I’ve served Master William—but never have I seen him in the fix where he be in to-day. LAURA. Why—how is it with him then? JOHN. As it might be with the cattle when the flies do buzz about they, thick in the sunshine. A-lashing this way and that, a-trampling and a-tossing, and never a minute’s rest. LAURA. Well, now—to think of such a thing. Indeed! JOHN. I’ve seen a horse right up to the neck of him in that old quag ahind of our place—a-snorting and a-clapping with his teeth and a-plunging so as ’twould terrify anyone to harken to it. And that’s how ’tis to-day with Master William up at home, so ’tis. LAURA. And only saw me once—at Church last Sunday, John? JOHN. Ah—and they old maid flies do sting but once, but ’tis a terrible big bump as they do raise on the flesh of anyone, that ’tis. LAURA. O John—’tis a fine thing to be loved like that. JOHN. So I should say—ah, ’tisn’t every day that a man like Master William goes a-courting. LAURA. But he hasn’t set out yet, John. JOHN. You take and hold the nosegay, mistress, and I’ll go straight off and fetch him, so being as you’re agreeable. LAURA. O yes, and that I am, John—You go and fetch him quick. I’ll bide here gladly, waiting till he comes. JOHN. That’s it. I knowed you for a sensible lady the moment I pitched my eyes on to you. And when master do come up, you take and talk to him nicely and meek-like and lead him on from one thing to t’other: and you’ll find as he’ll go quiet as a sheep after the first set off, spite of the great spirit what’s at the heart of he. LAURA. John, I’ll do all as you say, and more than all. Only, you get along and send him quickly to me. And—yes, you might give him a good hint, John—I’m not averse to his attentions. JOHN. Ah, and I should think you wasn’t, for ’twould be a hard job to find a nicer gentleman nor Master William. LAURA. That I know it would. Why, John, my heart’s commenced beating ever so fast, it has. JOHN. Then you may reckon how ’tis with the poor master! Why, ’tis my belief as ’twill be raving madness as’ll be the end of he if sommat don’t come to put a finish to this unrest. LAURA. O John, ’twould never do for such a fine gentleman to go crazy. Do you set off quick and send him along to me, and I’ll take and do my very best for to quiet him, like.