Wood. What, my old enemy, Mrs Pleasance!
Mrs Brain. Marry Mrs Saintly's daughter!
Aldo. The truth is, she has past for her daughter, by my appointment; but she has as good blood running in her veins, as the best of you. Her father, Mr Palms, on his death-bed, left her to my care and disposal, besides a fortune of twelve hundred a year; a pretty convenience, by my faith.
Wood. Beyond my hopes, if she consent.
Aldo. I have taken some care of her education, and placed her here with Mrs Saintly, as her daughter, to avoid her being blown upon by fops, and younger brothers. So now, son, I hope I have matched your concealment with my discovery; there is hit for hit, ere I cross the cudgels.
Pleas. You will not take them up, sir?
Wood. I dare not against you, madam: I am sure you will worst me at all weapons. All I can say is, I do not now begin to love you.
Aldo. Let me speak for thee: Thou shalt be used, little Pleasance, like a sovereign princess: Thou shalt not touch a bit of butchers' meat in a twelve-month; and thou shall be treated—
111 Pleas. Not with ballum rankum every night, I hope!
Aldo. Well, thou art a wag; no more of that. Thou shall want neither man's meat, nor woman's meat, as far as his provision will hold out.