But this is not the only wedding we are to have -- Mistriss is
resolved to have the same frolick, in the naam of God! Last
Sunday in the parish crutch, if my own ars may be trusted, the
clerk called the banes of marridge betwixt Opaniah Lashmeheygo,
and Tapitha Brample, spinster; he mought as well have called her
inkle-weaver, for she never spun and hank of yarn in her life --
Young 'squire Dollison and Miss Liddy make the second kipple; and
there might have been a turd, but times are changed with Mr
Clinker -- O Molly! what do'st think? Mr Clinker is found to be a
pye-blow of our own 'squire, and his rite naam is Mr Matthew Loyd
(thof God he nose how that can be); and he is now out of livery,
and wares ruffles -- but I new him when he was out at elbows, and
had not a rag to kiver his pistereroes; so he need not hold his
head so high -- He is for sartin very umble and compleasant, and
purtests as how he has the same regard as before; but that he is
no longer his own master, and cannot portend to marry without the
'squire's consent -- He says he must wait with patience, and trust
to Providence, and such nonsense -- But if so be as how his regard
be the same, why stand shilly shally? Why not strike while the
iron is hot, and speak to the 'squire without loss of time? What
subjection can the 'squire make to our coming together -- Thof my
father wan't a gentleman, my mother was an honest woman -- I didn't
come on the wrong side of the blanket, girl -- My parents were
marred according to the right of holy mother crutch, in the face
of men and angles -- Mark that, Mary Jones.
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