Mrs. Moth. Why, my Lord, Madam, is a little humoursome, they say.
Lady Head. Humoursome?
Mrs. Moth. Yes, they say he's humoursome.
Lady Head. As how, pray?
Mrs. Moth. Why, if my poor lady perhaps does but stay out at night, may be four or five hours after he's in bed, he'll be cross.
Lady Head. What, for such a thing as that?
Mrs. Moth. Yes, he'll be cross; and then if she happens, it may be, to be unfortunate at play, and lose a great deal of money, more than she has to pay, then Madam——he'll snub.
Lady Head. Out upon him! snub such a woman as she is? I can tell you, Mrs. Motherly, I that am but a country lady, should Sir Francis take upon him to snub me, in London, he'd raise a spirit would make his hair stand on end.
Mrs. Moth. Really, Madam, that's the only way to deal with 'em.
Enter Miss Betty.