Man. Indeed I think so; and in the country, might have serv'd her a twelvemonth.
Sir Fran. Why so it might——but here in this fine tawn, forsooth! it could not get through four and twenty hours——for in half that time, it was all squandered away in baubles, and new fashion'd trumpery.
Man. O! for ladies in London, Sir Francis, all this might be necessary.
Sir Fran. Noa, theere's the plague on't! the devil o' one useful thing do I see for it, but two pair of lac'd shoes, and those stond me in three pound three shillings a pair too.
Man. Dear Sir! this is nothing! Why we have city wives here, that while their good man is selling three penny worth of sugar, will give you twenty pound for a short apron.
Sir Fran. Mercy on us! what a mortal poor devil is a husband!
Man. Well, but I hope you have nothing else to complain of?
Sir Fran. Ah would I could say so too—but there's another hundred behind yet, that goes more to my heart, than all that went before it.
Man. And how might that be disposed of?
Sir Fran. Troth I am almost ashamed to tell you.