Though there be nought to back 'em up, ye see,
As when we were smaller.

_S._ Mark me, then, my lads.
When Lady Laura sang, 'I don't think much,'
Says her fine coachman, 'of your manners here.
We drove eleven miles in the dark, it rained,
And ruts in your cross roads are deep. We're here,
My lady sings, they sit all open-mouthed,
And when she's done they never give one cheer.'

_Old man._ Be folks to clap if they don't like the song?

_S._ Certain, for manners.

_Enter_ VICAR, _wife, various friends with violins and a flute.
They come to a piano, and one begins softly to tune his
violin, while the Vicar speaks_.

_V_. Friends, since there is a place where you must hear
When I stand up to speak, I would not now
If there were any other found to bid
You welcome. Welcome, then; these with me ask
No better than to please, and in good sooth
I ever find you willing to be pleased.
When I demand not more, but when we fain
Would lead you to some knowledge fresh, and ask
Your careful heed, I hear that some of you
Have said, 'What good to know, what good to us?
He puts us all to school, and our school days