Prithee, honest Fellow, shew me some place to sleep in.

You may sleep where you please here, 'tis all common, and no Man will pretend a Title to your Bed.

You see I've ne'r a dry Thread about me; pray let m'into your House. Lend me some other Cloths, while mine are a drying; and I shall be bound to pray for ye.

I don't care if I gi'ye this Frock, m'own Coat and cover i' rainy Weather.—Let me see your Cloths, and I'll warrant ye dry 'em for ye.

For shame! Arn't ye content t'ha'the Sea wash all away, but you must be for the same sport at Land too?

Be wash'd, and powder'd too, I caren't a Straw: I'll not trust ye without Mony. You may sweat, freez, be sick, or well, I'll receive no outlandish Guest within our Doors. We've had enough from them already.