"But, Mother" he began defensively, "I" "Me sweatin' over de wash-pot," the negress went on, "so's you could go up North an' learn a lil sense; heah you comes back chasin' a dutty slut!"

Come Gentlemen, let's up now, and if fortune Dare play the slut again, I'le never more Saint her, Come play-fellow, come, prethee come up; come chicken, I have a way shall fit yet: A tame knave, Come, look upon us.