Mary. Pray now, let me hear your news.
Dennis. That I will.—Mrs. Brulgruddery, I take the small liberty of begging you to get out, my lambkin.
Mrs. Brul. I shan't budge an inch. She needn't be asham'd of any thing that's to be told, if she's what she should be.
Mary. I know what I should be, if I were in your place.
Mrs. Brul. Marry come up! And what should you be then?
Mary. More compassionate to one of my own sex, or to any one in misfortune. Had you come to me, almost broken hearted, and not looking like one quite abandoned to wickedness, I should have thought on your misery, and forgot that it might have been brought on by your faults.
Dennis. At her, my little crature! By my soul, she'll bother the ould one!—'Faith, the Madeira has done her a deal of service!
Mrs. Brul. What's to be said, is said before me; and that's flat.
Mary. Do tell it, then, [To Dennis.] but, for others' sakes, don't mention names. I wish to hide nothing now, on my own account; though the money that was put down for me, before you would afford me shelter, I thought might have given me a little more title to hear a private message.
Mrs. Brul. I've a character, for virtue, to lose, young woman.