."

"Time flows on, I engage in many matters, in most miscarry. Am sent to
prison; says I to myself, I am become foolish. Am turned out of prison,
and go back to the hairy ones, who receive me not over courteously; says
I, for their unkindness, and my own foolishness, all the thanks to that
Gorgio. Answers to me the child, 'I wish I could set eyes upon him,
bebee.'"

"I did so, bebee; go on."

"'How shall I know him, bebee?' says the child. 'Young and grey, tall,
and speaks Romanly.' Runs to me the child, and says, 'I've found him,
bebee.' 'Where, child?' says I. 'Come with me, bebee,' says the child.
'That's he,' says I, as I looked at my gentleman through the hedge."

"Ha, ha! bebee, and here he lies, poisoned like a hog."

"You have taken drows, sir," said Mrs. Herne; "do you hear, sir? drows;
tip him a stave, child, of the song of poison."

And thereupon the girl clapped her hands, and sang--

"The Rommany churl
And the Rommany girl
To-morrow shall hie
To poison the sty
And bewitch on the mead
The farmer's steed."

"Do you hear that, sir?" said Mrs. Herne; "the child has tipped you a
stave of the song of poison: that is, she has sung it Christianly, though
perhaps you would like to hear it Romanly; you were always fond of what
was Roman. Tip it him Romanly, child."

"He has heard it Romanly already, bebee; 'twas by that I found him out,
as I told you."

"Halloo, sir, are you sleeping? you have taken drows; the gentleman makes
no answer. God give me patience!"

"And what if he doesn't, bebee; isn't he poisoned like a hog? Gentleman,
indeed! why call him gentleman? if he ever was one he's broke, and is now
a tinker, a worker of blue metal."

"That's his way, child,--to-day a tinker, to-morrow something else; and
as for being drabbed, {174a} I don't know what to say about it."

"Not drabbed! what do you mean, bebee? but look there, bebee; ha, ha!
look at the gentleman's motions."

"He is sick, child, sure enough. Ho, ho! sir, you have taken drows;
what, another throe! writhe, sir, writhe, the hog died by the drow of
Gypsies; I saw him stretched at evening. That's yourself, sir. There is
no hope, sir, no help, you have taken drow; shall I tell you your
fortune, sir, your dukkerin? God bless you, pretty gentleman, much
trouble will you have to suffer, and much water to cross; but never mind,
pretty gentleman, you shall be fortunate at the end, and those who hate
shall