Gripe. Two black pots of ale and a cake, at the cellar.—Come, the wine has arsenic in't.
Mrs. Joyn. [Aside.] Well, I am mistaken, and my hopes are abused: I never knew any man so mortified a miser, that he would deny his lechery anything; I must be even with thee then another way. [Exit.
Gripe. These useful old women are more exorbitant and craving in their desires than the young ones in theirs. These prodigals in white perukes spoil 'em both; and that's the reason, when the squires come under my clutches, I make 'em pay for their folly and mine, and 'tis but conscience:—oh, here comes the fair one at last!
Re-enter Mrs. Joyner leading in Lucy, who hangs backwards as she enters.
Lucy. Oh Lord, there's a man, godmother!
Mrs. Joyn. Come in, child, thou art so bashful—
Lucy. My mother is from home too, I dare not.
Mrs. Joyn. If she were here, she'd teach you better manners.
Lucy. I'm afraid she'd be angry.