ACT IV.
SCENE I.—A Room in SIR TUNBELLY CLUMSY’S House.
Enter MISS HOYDEN and NURSE.
NURSE.
Well, miss, how do you like your husband that is to be?
MISS HOYDEN.
O Lord, nurse, I’m so overjoyed I can scarce contain myself!
NURSE.
Oh, but you must have a care of being too fond; for men, nowadays, hate a woman that loves ’em.
MISS HOYDEN.
Love him! why, do you think I love him, nurse? Ecod I would not care if he was hanged, so I were but once married to him. No, that which pleases me is to think what work I’ll make when I get to London; for when I am a wife and a lady both, ecod, I’ll flaunt it with the best of ’em. Ay, and I shall have money enough to do so too, nurse.
NURSE.
Ah, there’s no knowing that, miss; for though these lords have a power of wealth indeed, yet, as I have heard say, they give it all to their sluts and their trulls, who joggle it about in their coaches, with a murrain to ’em, whilst poor madam sits sighing and wishing, and has not a spare half-crown to buy her a Practice of Piety.
MISS HOYDEN.
Oh, but for that, don’t deceive yourself, nurse; for this I must say of my lord, he’s as free as an open house at Christmas; for this very morning he told me I should have six hundred a year to buy pins. Now if he gives me six hundred a year to buy pins, what do you think he’ll give me to buy petticoats?
NURSE.
Ay, my dearest, he deceives thee foully, and he’s no better than a rogue for his pains! These Londoners have got a gibberish with ’em would confound a gipsy. That which they call pin-money, is to buy everything in the versal world, down to their very shoe-knots. Nay, I have heard some folks say that some ladies, if they’ll have gallants as they call ’em, are forced to find them out of their pin-money too.—But look, look, if his honour be not coming to you!—Now, if I were sure you would behave yourself handsomely, and not disgrace me that have brought you up, I’d leave you alone together.