The good woman, who was within hearing of all this, pitied me much.
Pray, your Honour, said she, if I may be so bold, was madam ever a mamma?
No—[and I sighed.]—We have been but a little while married; and as I may say to you, it is her own fault that she is not in that way. [Not a word of a lie in this, Jack.] But to tell you truth, Madam, she may be compared to the dog in the manger—
I understand you, Sir, [simpering,] she is but young, Sir. I have heard of one or two such skittish young ladies, in my time, Sir.—But when madam is in that way, I dare say, as she loves you, (and it would be strange if she did not!) all this will be over, and she may make the best of wives.
That's all my hope.
She is a fine lady as I ever beheld.—I hope, Sir, you won't be too severe. She'll get over all these freaks, if once she be a mamma, I warrant.
I can't be severe to her—she knows that. The moment I see her, all resentment is over with me, if she gives me but one kind look.
All this time I was adjusting the horseman's coat, and Will. was putting in the ties of my wig,* and buttoning the cape over my chin.
* The fashionable wigs at that time.
I asked the gentlewoman for a little powder. She brought me a powder- box, and I slightly shook the puff over my hat, and flapt one side of it, though the lace looked a little too gay for my covering; and, slouching it over my eyes, Shall I be known, think you, Madam?