round window above the same door:


THE GRAVE-DIGGER.

Alas! my good people, my dear parishioners, for the love of God open the
door.


THE HEMP-BEATER.

Who are you, pray, and why do you presume to call us your dear
parishioners? We do not know you.


THE GRAVE-DIGGER.

We are honest folk in sore distress. Be not afraid of us, my friends!
receive us hospitably. The rain freezes as it falls, our poor feet are
frozen, and we have come such a long distance that our shoes are split.


THE HEMP-BEATER.

If your shoes are split, you can look on the ground; you will surely
find osier withes to make _arcelets_ [little strips of iron in the shape
of bows, with which shoes (wooden) were mended].


THE GRAVE-DIGGER.