Woodc. Go, shrive thyself, and the priest will scrub off thy
turpentine with a new haircloth; and now, good-day, the maids are a-
waiting for their firewood.

Peas. A word before you go--Take warning by me--avoid that same
serpent, wisdom--Pray to the Saints to make you a blockhead--Never
send your boys to school--For Heaven knows, a poor man that will
live honest, and die in his bed, ought to have no more scholarship
than a parson, and no more brains than your jackass.


SCENE VII


The Gateway of a Castle. Elizabeth and her suite standing at the
top of a flight of steps. Mob below.

Peas. Bread! Bread! Bread! give us bread; we perish.

1st Voice. Ay, give, give, give! God knows, we're long past
earning.

2d Voice. Our skeleton children lie along in the roads--

3d Voice. Our sheep drop dead about the frozen leas--

4th Voice. Our harness and our shoes are boiled for food--

Old Man's Voice. Starved, withered, autumn hay that thanks the
scythe!