human
I have you now, my pretty. Don't dare to turn up your nose at me, for if you do I'll tell mistress you are a witch.
gpt
I look on none who has no money.
human
If that is all, replied the coachman,
gpt
I have forty pounds laid by with master. That I'll bring and ask for payment to-morrow night.
human
Goody me! I've left my clothes on the line. Stop a bit till I fetch them in.
gpt
Let me go. It is a cold, windy night and you'll be catching your death.
human
By virtue of the three feathers from over my true love's heart may the clothes slash and blow about till dawn, and may Mr. Coachman not be able to gather them up or take his hand from the job.