Mrs. Jervis looked like a fool as much as I, for her officiousness.--At
last I got away, and ran out of the parlour, most sadly vexed, as you may
well think.

He talked a good deal to Mrs. Jervis, and at last ordered me to come in
to him. Come in, said he, you little villain!--for so he called me.
(Good sirs! what a name was there!)--who is it you put your tricks upon?
I was resolved never to honour your unworthiness, said he, with so much
notice again; and so you must disguise yourself to attract me, and yet
pretend, like an hypocrite as you are----

I was out of patience then: Hold, good sir, said I; don't impute disguise
and hypocrisy to me, above all things; for I hate them both, mean as I
am. I have put on no disguise.--What a plague, said he, for that was his
word, do you mean then by this dress?--Why, and please your honour, said
I, I mean one of the honestest things in the world.

I have been in disguise, indeed, ever since my good lady your mother took
me from my poor parents. I came to her ladyship so poor and mean, that
these clothes I have on, are a princely suit to those I had then: and her
goodness heaped upon me rich clothes, and other bounties: and as I am now
returning to my poor parents again so soon, I cannot wear those good
things without being hooted at; and so have bought what will be more
suitable to my degree, and be a good holiday-suit too, when I get home.

He then took me in his arms, and presently pushed me from him. Mrs.
Jervis, said he, take the little witch from me; I can neither bear, nor
forbear her--(Strange words these!)--But stay; you shan't go!--Yet
begone!--No, come back again.