pause.

OLD MAN. I be a poor old wretch what journeys upon the roads,
master, and maybe I picks a crust here and gets a drink of water
there, and the shelter of the pig-stye wall to rest the bones of me
at night time.

GILES. What matters it if you be old and poor, master, so that the
heart of you be whole and unbroken?

OLD MAN. Us poor old wretches don't carry no hearts to th' insides
of we. The pains of us do come from the having of no victuals and
from the winter's cold when snow do lie on the ground and the wind do
moan over the fields, and when the fox do bark.

GILES. What is the pang of hunger and the cold bite of winter set
against the cruel torment of a disappointed love?

OLD MAN. I baint one as can judge of that, my lord, seeing that I be
got a poor old badger of a man, and the days when I was young and did
carry a heart what could beat with love, be ahind of I, and the feel
of them clean forgot.

GILES. Then what do you up yonder at the marrying this morning?

OLD MAN. Oh, I do take me to those places where there be burying or
marriage, for the hearts of folk at these seasons be warmed and
kinder, like. And 'tis bread and meat as I gets then. Food be
thrown out to the poor old dog what waits patient at the door.