L. Rod. Religious People! This Creature is so employ'd by the Canaille, I shall have my Cloths cut to pieces, dear Cozen, let Buda make me a Suit with Expedition, I'll present this to the Play-House.
Semp. Does your Ladyship like your Head, Madam?
L. Rod. The Lace, Mrs. Taffety, is so course and so heavy, I'm ready to sink beneath the weight of it.
Semp. Madam, 'tis right Mechlin, cost me Six Guineas a Yard, and I bought it too of a Merchant, that has smuggl'd many a hundred Pounds worth.
L. Rod. There you please me, English People are extremely fond of what's forbid, we commonly obey our Parents, and the Government much a-like; and tho' the State prohibits Flanders Lace, French Alamodes, and India Sattins, we have 'em all by the way of Holland.—These Ruffles too are so furiously starch'd, I shall throw People down as I move along.
Semp. The Ladies, Madam, love a stiff Ruffle, for shou'd the Wind blow it aside, your Ladyship's Elbow might catch cold, but I'll slacken my Hand i'the next.—Does your Ladyship want a very fine short Apron?
L. Rod. Women o' Quality, Mrs. Taffety have left 'em off, and those Ladies that do wear 'em, generally make 'em of their old Top-knots [to the India Woman] Mrs. Japan, you are a Stranger here, I hav'n't seen you since I paid off your last Bill,
Ind. Wom. Oh, Madam! I have been at Death's Door, the Hypocondriacks have so prey'd upon my Spirits, they have destroy'd my Constitution, such Rotations i'my Head, such an Oppression at my Stomach—but I ha' brought you a Pound of Bohee, so purifying, 'twill give your Ladyship a new Mass of Blood in a Quarter of an Hour.
L. Rod. Mrs. Chince has much better.
Ind. Wom. Then will I eat Mrs. Chince.—Shall I show you some fine India Pictures?