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_Mrs. J. I_ told you so!
_Mrs. T. (aside)._ That did you, neighbour. Ay,
Partings, said you, and tears: I liked the song.
_Mrs. G_. Who be these coming to the front to sing?
_Mrs. J. (aside)._ Why, neighbour, these be sweethearts, so 'tis said,
And there was much ado to make her sing;
She would, and would not; and he wanted her,
And, mayhap, wanted to be seen with her.
'Tis Tomlin's pretty maid, his only one.
_Mrs. G. (aside)._ I did not know the maid, so fair she looks.
_Mrs. J. (aside)._ He's a right proper man she has at last;
Walks over many a mile (and counts them nought)
To court her after work hours, that he doth,
Not like her other--why, he'd let his work
Go all to wrack, and lay it to his love,
While he would sit and look, and look and sigh.
Her father sent him to the right-about.
'If love,' said he, 'won't make a man of you,
Why, nothing will! 'Tis mainly that love's for.
The right sort makes,' said he, 'a lad a man;
The wrong sort makes,' said he, 'a man a fool.


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