Mrs. Driv. Truly, Mrs. Flauntit, this young Squire that you were Sent to for, has two or three Persons more with him that must be accommodated too.
Flaunt. Driver, though I do recreate my self a little sometimes, yet you know I value my Reputation and Honour.
Jenny. Mrs. Driver, why shou’d you send for us where Flauntit is? a stinking proud Flirt, who because she has a tawdry Petticoat, I warrant you, will think her self so much above us, when if she were set out in her own natural Colours, and her original Garments, wou’d be much below us in Beauty.
Mrs. Driv. Look ye, Mrs. Jenny, I know you, and I know Mrs. Flauntit; but ‘tis not Beauty or Wit that takes now-a-days; the Age is altered since I took upon me this genteel Occupation: but ‘tis a fine Petticoat, right Points, and clean Garnitures, that does me Credit, and takes the Gallant, though on a stale Woman. And again, Mrs. Jenny, she’s kept, and Men love as much for Malice, as for Lechery, as they call it. Oh, ‘tis a great Mover to Joy, as they say, to have a Woman that’s kept.
Jen. Well! Be it so, we may arrive to that excellent Degree of Cracking, to be kept too one day.
Mrs. Driv. Well, well, get your selves in order to go up to the
Gentlemen.
Flaunt. Driver, what art thou talking to those poor Creatures? Lord, how they stink of Paint and Pox, faugh—
Mrs. Driv. They were only complaining that you that were kept, shou’d intrude upon the Privileges of the Commoners.
Flaunt. Lord, they think there are such Joys in Keeping, when I vow, Driver, after a while, a Miss has as painful a Life as a Wife; our Men drink, stay out late, and whore, like any Husbands.
Driv. But I hope in the Lord, Mrs. Flauntit, yours is no such Man; I never saw him, but I have heard he’s under decent Correction.