Don't lie." "I won't." "That's right.

And now listen: if you marry me, I'll treat 'ee like a span'el dog.

Fetch you shall, an' carry, for my pleasure.

You shall be slave, an' I your taskmaster; an' the sweetness o' your love shall come by crushin', like trodden thyme.

Shall I suit you ?" "I don't think you will." "Then good-night to you." "Good-night, Zeb.