human
We might go by way of Ripley,
gpt
The road even viler, and the distance a league more. I said we _might_ take the Ripley way. In sober earnest, we go wide of Mistress Joan.
human
Who spoke of Joan Grant?
gpt
Your cheeks, lad, and the note in your voice. Nay, no heat. D’ye think the Prince gave us this venture for you to go standing under yon Ripley casement, sighing for the moon that lives behind it? York would be relieved and all over, before I steadied you.
human
You’ve no heart, Michael.
gpt
None, lad; and I’m free of trouble, by that token.