marriage? _Dro. S._ Marry, sir, she's the kitchen-wench, and all
grease; and
I know not what use to put her to, but to make 95 a lamp of
her, and run from her by her own light. I warrant, her rags, and the
tallow in them, will burn a
Poland
winter: if she lives till doomsday,
she'll burn a week longer than the
whole world. _Ant. S._ What complexion is she of? 100 _Dro. S._ Swart,
like my shoe, but her face nothing like so clean kept: for why she
sweats; a man may go over shoes in the grime of it. _Ant. S._ That's a
fault that
water will mend. _Dro. S._ No, sir, 'tis in grain;
Noah's flood could not 105 do it. _Ant.
S._ What's her name? _Dro. S._ Nell, sir; but her name
and three quarters, that's an ell and three quarters, will not measure
her from hip to hip. 110 _Ant. S._ Then she bears
some breadth? _Dro. S._ No longer from head to foot than from hip
to hip: she is spherical, like
a globe; I could find out countries in her. _Ant. S._ In what part of
her body stands Ireland?
115 _Dro. S._ Marry,
sir, in her buttocks: I found it out by the bogs. _Ant. S._ Where
Scotland? _Dro. S._ I
found it by the barrenness; hard in the palm of the hand. 120 _Ant.
S._ Where
France? _Dro. S.
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