Moll. Look, look, an' he have not brought him just upon the minute. O sweet, silken Ancient, my mind gives me thee and I shall dance the shaking of the sheets[81] together.
Alex. Now, you Mistress Figtail, is the wind come about yet? I ha' brought the gentleman: do not you tell him now, you had rather have his room than his company, and so show your breeding.
Moll. Now, fie upon you; by this light you're the wickedest fellow! My brother but abuses you: pray, sir, go over again, you've a handsome spying wit, you may send more truth over in one of your well-penned pamphlets, than all the weekly news we buy for our penny.
Anc. Pox on't! I'll stay no longer.
Alex. 'Sfoot, thou shalt stay longer; we'll stay her heart—her guts out.
Moll. Ha, ha! how will you do for a sister then?
Alex. Prythee, Moll, do but look upon him.
Moll. Yes, when I ha' no better object.
Alex. What canst thou see in him, thou unhandsome hideous thing, that merits not above thee?
Moll. What would I give to kiss him! [Aside.