who am a Roman born, and hope to die so. When I say right
Romanly, I mean that they kept to themselves, and were not much given to
blabbing about their private matters in promiscuous company. Well,
things went on in this way for some time, when one day my son-in-law
brings home a young gorgio of singular and outrageous ugliness, and,
without much preamble, says to me and mine, "This is my pal, ain't he a
beauty? fall down and worship him." "Hold," said I, "I for one will
never consent to such foolishness."'

'That was right, bebee, I think I should have done the same.'

'I think you would, child; but what was the profit of it? The whole
party makes an almighty of this gorgio, lets him into their ways, says
prayers of his making, till things come to such a pass that my own
daughter says to me, "I shall buy myself a veil and fan, and treat myself
to a play and sacrament." "Don't," says I; says she, "I should like for
once in my life to be courtesied to as a Christian gentlewoman."'

'Very foolish of her, bebee.'

'Wasn't it, child? Where was I? At the fan and sacrament; with a heavy
heart I put seven score miles between us, came back to the hairy ones,
and found them over-given to gorgious companions; said I, "Foolish
manners is catching; all this comes of that there gorgio." Answers the
child Leonora, "Take comfort, bebee; I hate the gorgios as much as you
do."'

'And I say so again, bebee, as much or more.'

'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 gray, 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,