Mrs. Caut. So, so!
Hip. Nay, now I think on't, I'd have you to know, the poor man, whosoe'er he is, will have little cause to thank you.
Mrs. Caut. No!—
Hip. No; for I never lived so wicked a life as I have done this twelvemonth, since I have not seen a man.
Mrs. Caut. How, how! if you have not seen a man, how could you be wicked? how could you do any ill?
Hip. No, I have done no ill; but I have paid it with thinking.
Mrs. Caut. O that's no hurt! to think, is no hurt:—ancient, grave, and godly, cannot help thoughts.
Hip. I warrant, you have had 'em yourself, aunt?
Mrs. Caut. Yes, yes, when I cannot sleep.
Hip. Ha! ha!—I believe it. But know, I have had those thoughts sleeping and waking; for I have dreamt of a man.