human
Ah, Dame Lobkins, if so be as 'ow little Paul vas a vith you, it would be a gallows comfort to you in your latter hend!
gpt
Little Paul,--eh, sirs! where is Paul? Paul, I say, my ben cull. Alack! he's gone,--left his poor old nurse to die like a cat in a cellar. Oh, Dummie, never live to be old, man! They leaves us to oursel's, and then takes away all the lush with 'em! I has not a drop o' comfort in the 'varsal world!
human
But come, dame, he wound up,
gpt
Oh! oh! groaned the old woman, on whose palsied sense the astute inquiries of Dummie Dunnaker fell harmless;