Mrs. Joyn. To see you so much an ass.—Come along, I say.
Gripe. Nay, speak to her gently; if you won't, I will.
Lucy. Thank you, sir.
Gripe. Pretty innocent! there is, I see, one left of her age; what hap have I! Sweet little gentlewoman, come sit down by me.
Lucy. I am better bred, I hope, sir.
Gripe. You must sit down by me.
Lucy. I'd rather stand, if you please.
Gripe. To please me, you must sit, sweetest.
Lucy. Not before my godmother, sure.
Gripe. Wonderment of innocence!