MISS. Why, my father. I told him that you loved me.
TATT. Oh, fie, miss; why did you do so? And who told you so, child?
MISS. Who? Why, you did; did not you?
TATT. Oh, pox, that was yesterday, miss, that was a great while ago, child. I have been asleep since; slept a whole night, and did not so much as dream of the matter.
MISS. Pshaw—oh, but I dreamt that it was so, though.
TATT. Ay, but your father will tell you that dreams come by contraries, child. Oh, fie; what, we must not love one another now. Pshaw, that would be a foolish thing indeed. Fie, fie, you’re a woman now, and must think of a new man every morning and forget him every night. No, no, to marry is to be a child again, and play with the same rattle always. Oh, fie, marrying is a paw thing.
MISS. Well, but don’t you love me as well as you did last night then?
TATT. No, no, child, you would not have me.
MISS. No? Yes, but I would, though.
TATT. Pshaw, but I tell you you would not. You forget you’re a woman and don’t know your own mind.