Курсовая работа: British slang and its classification

That roars at midnight in deep tavern bowls,

That beats the watch, and constables controls;

Another roars i' th' daytime, swears, stabs, gives braves,

Yet sells her soul to the lust of fools and slaves.

Both these are suburb roarers. Then there's beside

A civil city roaring girl, whose pride,

Feasting, and riding, shakes her husband's state,

And leaves him roaring through an iron grate.

None of these roaring girls is ours: she flies

With wings more lofty. Thus her character lies;

Yet what need characters, when to give a guess

Is better than the person to express?

But would you know who 'tis? Would you hear her name?

She is call'd mad Moll; her life, our acts proclaim.

Enter Mary Fitzallard disguised like a sempster with a case for bands, and Neatfoot a serving-man with her, with a napkin on his shoulder and a trencher in his hand as from table.

NEATFOOT

The young gentleman our young master, Sir Alexander's son, is it into his ears, sweet damsel emblem of fragility, you desire to have a message transported, or to be transcendent?

MARY

A private word or two, sir, nothing else.

NEATFOOT

You shall fructify in that which you come for: your pleasure shall be satisfied to your full contentation. I will, fairest t