You cut up Betsy--you salted the pieces--and you are satisfied with your conduct--three capital counts--who are you, my good woman?
_Woman_ .-- I am Betsy.
_Lothario_ .-- Thank God! You see, my Lord, that I did not murder her.
_Judge_ .-- Humph!--ay--what!--What about the salting?
_Betsy_ .-- No, my Lord, he did not salt me:--on the contrary, he did many things for me ...

he is a worthy man! _Lothario_ .-- You hear, my Lord, she says I am an honest man! _Judge_ .-- Humph!--the third count remains.

Officer, remove the prisoner, he must hang for it; he is guilty of self-conceit.
Shopkeeping--to return to Amsterdam--is the Dutch people's life.

An idle rich class they may have, but it does not assert itself.

It is hidden away at The Hague or at Arnheim.