cheel pull the poll o' tha; chell plim tha, chell vulch tha. Looks zee,--Rager Hill es as hones a man as enny in Challacomb; -no dispreise. THOMASIN. And do thee tell me o' stertling upon the zess, whan George Vuzz putch'd, chell gi' tha a lick;-chell lay tha over the years wey the vire-tangs. Ad! chell ting tha. Thy buzzom chucks were pretty vittee avore tha mad'st thyzel therle, and thy vlesh oll wangery, and thy skin oll vlagged, with nort bet agging, and veaking, and tiltishness.

WILMOT. Bed-blonket akether!* Ha! zey zich a word more chell cotton thy waistecoat. Chell thong tha, chell gi' tha zich a strat in tha chups,t ya grizzledemundy.

THOMASIN. Me a strat in the chups? Dest hire ma? Come aneest me, chell pummel tha, chell vag tha, chell lace tha.

WILMOT. Thee lace ma? Chem a laced wella-fine aready.-Zey wone word more, and chell bresh tha, chell tan tha, chell make thy boddize pilmee.

THOMASIN.

How a man a zed! make my boddize pilmee? Ad! if e'er tha squeakest wone word more o' tha bed-blonket, chell trim tha, chell crown tha, chell vump tha.

WILMOT. Why dedst thee, than, tell me o' the zess, or it of the hay-pook, as tha dedst whileer? -Chell drub tha, chell curry thy scabbed yess var tha.

THOMASIN. And why dest thee, than, tell me 'isterday o' losing my rewden hat in the rex

* Akether! means quoth he! or quoth her!
+ Chups or chucks, the cheeks.

bush, out a whorting? And more and zo, that the young Tom Vuzz shou'd le-ave he's codglove!-Ad! zey a word more o' the young Tom Vuzz, chell baste tha, chell stram tha, chell drash tha;-chell make thy kepp hoppee, wi' thy Vlanders lace upon't.

WILMOT. Vlanders lace! What's me-an by that, ha-ah? Tell me enny more o' Vlanders lace, chell make thy yead addle. Chell up wi' ma veest, and gi' tha a whisterpoop, and zitch a zwoop as shall make tha veel ma, looks zee!

THOMASIN. Gi' me a zwop ?-Ad! chell gi' tha a wherret, or a zlat in the chups, or up wi' thy dugged coats, and tack tha gre-asy yess o' tha.

WILMOT. Thee tack ma, ya unlifty, ill-hearty, untidy mea-zel?-Andra wou'd ha' had a trub in tha, nif vauther hadent a strat the match.

THOMASIN. How dem! a trub?-Go, ye rearing, snapping, tedious, cutted snibblenose!-Th' art olways a vustled up in an old jump, or a whittle, or an old seggard, avore zitch times as Neckle Halse cometh about:-Than tha wut prinkee. Thee hast a let the kee go zoo vor want o'strocking. It a vore oll* th'art an abomination pinchvart vor thy own eends.-Ay, ay! Shoort, Wilmot, shoort !-Zwer thy torn, or else tha tedst net carry whome thy pad, and meet Neckle Halse by tha way. He'll meet tha in the Vuzzy-park coander by cockleert, or avore, chell warndy.

WILMOT. Tell ma wone word more o' Neckle Halse, chell skull tha, tha hassent a be' a skull'd zo vor wone while. Ya gurt fustilugs! The old

* It (or eet) a vore oll, means yet notwithstanding.

Mag Dawkins es bet a Huckmuck to tha. Zet tha about ort, why, tha dest thengs vore-and-back, a cat-hamm'd, a vore-reert, and vramp-shapen, like a totle.

THOMASIN. How! ya long-hanged trapes! Ya blow-monger baarge! Thee wut coal-varty a-bed* avore be voor days. Th'art so deeve as a haddick in chongy weather. Or whan 'tes avrore or a scratcht the le-ast theng out, or whan snewth, or blunketh, or doveth, or in scatty weather, or in a tingling vrost, than tha art theck-listed, and ba hang'd to tha.

WILMOT. And thee art a lams'd in wone o'thy yearms, and cassent zee a sheen in thy reart ee.

THOMASIN. Rex-bush!-Fath! tell me o' tha rex-bush, ye tee-heeing pixy!-Es marl who's more vor rigging, or rumping, steehopping or ragrowtering, giggleting or gambowling than thee art thyzel.-Pitha, dest'nt remember whan tha com'st over tha clam wi' tha old Hugh Hosegood, whan tha wawter was by stave, how tha vel'st in, and the old Hugh drade thee out by tha vorked eend, wi' thy dugged clathers up zo vur as thy na'el, whan tha wart just a buddled?

WILMOT.

Lock! dest dwallee, or tell doil?— Pitha tell reaznable, or hold thy popping, ya gurt washamouth.

* Coal-varty a-bed, to warm the bed with a Scotch warming pan; that is, with half a farthing.

SO ENDS THE FIRST BOUT.

AN

EXMOOR SCOLDING.

BOUT THE SECOND.

WILMOT. Dist hire ma, dem? Chell ha tether vinny wi' tha.-Tha told'st ma now-reert, or a whilere, of rigging and rumping, steehopping and ragrowtering, giggleting and gamboyling. What's me-an by thate? But thee, thee wut ruckee, and squattee, and doattee in the chimly coander lick an axwaddle; and wi' the zame tha wut rakee up, and gookee, and tell doil, tell Dildrams and Buckingham Jenkins.-Ay, ay, poor Andra Vursdon wud ha' had a rigmutton rumpstall in tha, nif tad net ha' be' strat. A wud ha' had a coad, riggelting, parbeaking, piping body in tha; olwey wone glam or nether. And more an zo, there's no direct to hot tha tell'st. Tha wut feb et heartily. Na, tha wut lee a rope up-reert.* Chad a most a borst my guts wi' laughing, whan's zee'd tha whilere trapesee hum from tha Yeoanna Lock, thy shoes oll besh, thy hozen muxy up zo vurs thy gammerels to tha very hucksheens o' tha, thy gore coat oll a girred, thy head-clathing oll a foust; thy

*To lie a rope upright contains a pun on the word lie, and means the telling such a lie as implies a contradiction in itself; or what is as impossible to be true as for a rope which lies on the ground to stand upright at the same time.

waistcoat oll horry, and thy pancrock a kiver'd wi' briss and buttons.

Bet _dist net thee that tha young Josy when ha had zitch a Eart lunging, eart

THOMASIN. Why thare zo! thenk, ya long-hanged trapes, Yeaff-field wud ha' be' plasad, crewdling theng as thee art? as thee art? squatting upon thy tether eend. Zey ort to tha, why tha wut twitch up thy teal, and drow up thy noaze, and take owl o', or take pip o'. Nif won zey the le-ast theng out, tha wut purtee a zennet

arter.

WILMOT. How, hussey! ya confounded trash! Dist remember when tha wenst out in tha Vuzzeypark, in tha desk o' tha yeaveling, just in the dimmet, wi' tha young Humphry Hosegood, -and how ha mullad and soulad about tha? Ha bed tha zed down ;—and tha zedst tha wudst net, nif ha dedent blow tha down. Zo ha blow'd, and down tha valst. Who shud be hard by (vor 'twas in tha dimmet) bet tha Square's Bealy,--and vorewey ha cry'd out tha "oll windvalls belongad to's measter.' Wi' tha zame tha splettest away-down tha pennet-hilter skilter-as if tha dowl had ha' be' in tha heels o' tha.

THOMASIN. Oh the dowl splet tha! who told theckee strammer?

WILMOT. Why, 'twos thee thy own zel up to stooling o' Terra's.

THOMASIN. Oh! a plague confound tha! dest tha thenk ees ded tell't to tha to ha' et a drode vore agen? Well, 'tes well a fine.-Es can drow vore worse spalls than thet to thee:-Ad! es cud rep tha up.

WILMOT. What, a dowl, and be hang'd to tha, canst tha drow vore to me?