dress'd in white, and I know it is to Middleton church to be married to that there gentleman that writes all the songs and the metre.
LANDLADY.
'Tis lucky it's no worse. Step into the parlour, sirs, and I'll come to you presently. (Exeunt Farmers and Sally different ways.) What luck some people have! married to a gentleman too! fortune makes a lady of her at once.
DAVID.
By my faith! and fortune has been in great want of stuff for that purpose when she could light upon nothing better than Doll. They lack'd of fish to make a dish that filled their pan with tadpoles.
LANDLADY.
Don't be so spiteful, now, David; some folks must be low in this world, and others must be high.
DAVID.
Yes, truly, she'll be high enough. Give some folks an inch and they'll take an ell; let fortune make her a lady, and she'll reckon herself a countess, I warrant ye.—Lord help us! I think I see her now, in all her stuff silks and her great bobbing top-knots, holding up her head as grand and as grave as a cat looking out of a window.—Foh! it were enough to make a body sick.
