No More Learning

Nay, you sicken _me_
To hear you.

HOWARD. Fancy-sick; these things are done,
Done right against the promise of this Queen
Twice given.

PAGET. No faith with heretics, my Lord!
Hist! there be two old gossips--gospellers,
I take it; stand behind the pillar here;
I warrant you they talk about the burning.

_Enter_ TWO OLD WOMEN. JOAN, _and after her_ TIB.

JOAN. Why, it be Tib!

TIB. I cum behind tha, gall, and couldn't make tha hear. Eh, the wind
and the wet! What a day, what a day!
nigh upo' judgement daay loike.
Pwoaps be pretty things, Joan, but they wunt set i' the Lord's cheer
o' that daay.

JOAN. I must set down myself, Tib; it be a var waay vor my owld legs
up vro' Islip. Eh, my rheumatizy be that bad howiver be I to win to
the burnin'.

TIB. I should saay 'twur ower by now. I'd ha' been here avore, but
Dumble wur blow'd wi' the wind, and Dumble's the best milcher in
Islip.

JOAN. Our Daisy's as good 'z her.

TIB. Noa, Joan.

JOAN. Our Daisy's butter's as good'z hern.

TIB. Noa, Joan.