Mrs. Caut. No matter, no matter, so that it was but a dream: I have dreamt myself. For you must know, widows are mightily given to dream; insomuch that a dream is waggishly called "the Widow's Comfort."
Hip. But I did not only dream—[Sighs.
Mrs. Caut. How, how! did you more than dream? speak, young harlotry! confess; did you more than dream? How could you do more than dream in this house? speak, confess!
Hip. Well, I will then. Indeed, aunt, I did not only dream, but I was pleased with my dream when I awaked.
Mrs. Caut. Oh, is that all?—Nay, if a dream only will please you, you are a modest young woman still: but have a care of a vision.
Hip. Ay; but to be delighted when we wake with a naughty dream, is a sin, aunt; and I am so very scrupulous, that I would as soon consent to a naughty man as to a naughty dream.
Mrs. Caut. I do believe you.
Hip. I am for going into the throng of temptations.
Mrs. Caut. There I believe you again.
Hip. And making myself so familiar with them, that I would not be concerned for 'em a whit.