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"And how many times have these young sparks been here in your father's absence? Nay, Biddy child, keep thy fingers out of the dish and use thy fork."

"This is the first time they've come, but we met them both last week at my aunt's."

"I'll warrant she's glad to speak her own tongue again, though she must hate their reason for leaving France. Eh well, they're pretty fellows, and you can sort 'em out amongst ye, so long as Bess keeps to Oxenbrigge."

"They'll never marry one of us. Their fathers have lost everything, so they must marry women of fortune."

"And none of ye's penniless. I'll wager that neither the Sieur de Champfort nor the Sieur de Périgault will find four thousand pounds come amiss just now. And when I die there's the furnace, though you can't have the estate."

"Maybe the furnace won't be blowing then. John Douce says the timber will be all used up in another fifty years."

"Well, that's thy life as well as mine, child; and John Douce is an old croaker—maybe he'd sing another tune if the furnace was still his. Henny, hast forgotten what I read 'ee out of Lady Rich's book? 'Throwing your liquor as into a funnel is an action fitter for a juggler than a gentlewoman.'"