Isa. Something.
Fran. Something? what thing? have I not provided you a Husband whom you are to marry within a day or two.
Isa. There’s a Husband indeed, pray keep him to your self, if you please; I’ll marry none of him, I’ll see him hanged first.
Fran. Hey day;—what, is he not young and handsome enough, forsooth?
Isa. Young and handsome; is there no more than that goes to the making up of a Husband—Yes, there’s Quality.
Fran. Quality!—Why, is he not one of the richest Merchants of his standing in all Cadiz.
Isa. Merchant! a pretty Character! a Woman of my Beauty, and five Thousand Pound, marry a Merchant—a little, petty, dirty-heel’d Merchant; faugh, I’d rather live a Maid all the days of my life, or be sent to a Nunnery, and that’s Plague enough I’m sure.
Jac. Have a care of a Nunnery, lest he take you at your word.
Isa. I would not for the world; no, Jacinta, when ever thou seest me in holy Orders, the World will be at an end.
Fran. Merchant! why, what Husband do you expect?