MRS. FRAIL. Pooh, here’s a clutter: why should it reflect upon you? I don’t doubt but you have thought yourself happy in a hackney coach before now. If I had gone to Knight’s Bridge, or to Chelsea, or to Spring Garden, or Barn Elms with a man alone, something might have been said.
MRS. FORE. Why, was I ever in any of those places? What do you mean, sister?
MRS. FRAIL. Was I? What do you mean?
MRS. FORE. You have been at a worse place.
MRS. FRAIL. I at a worse place, and with a man!
MRS. FORE. I suppose you would not go alone to the World’s End.
MRS. FRAIL. The World’s End! What, do you mean to banter me?
MRS. FORE. Poor innocent! You don’t know that there’s a place called the World’s End? I’ll swear you can keep your countenance purely: you’d make an admirable player.
MRS. FRAIL. I’ll swear you have a great deal of confidence, and in my mind too much for the stage.
MRS. FORE. Very well, that will appear who has most; you never were at the World’s End?