MISS. No! What then? What shall you and I do together?
TATT. I must make love to you, pretty Miss; will you let me make love to you?
MISS. Yes, if you please.
TATT. Frank, i’Gad, at least. What a pox does Mrs. Foresight mean by this civility? Is it to make a fool of me? Or does she leave us together out of good morality, and do as she would be done by?—Gad, I’ll understand it so. [Aside.]
MISS. Well; and how will you make love to me—come, I long to have you begin,—must I make love too? You must tell me how.
TATT. You must let me speak, Miss, you must not speak first; I must ask you questions, and you must answer.
MISS. What, is it like the catechism? Come then, ask me.
TATT. D’ye think you can love me?
MISS. Yes.
TATT. Pooh, pox, you must not say yes already; I shan’t care a farthing for you then in a twinkling.