Mrs. Cros. Whispering all this while!—Beware of his snares again: come away, child.
Dap. Sweet, dear miss—
Lucy. Bargain for me!—you have reckoned without your hostess, as they say. Bargain for me! bargain for me! [Exit.
Dap. I must return, then, to treat with you.
Mrs. Cros. Treat me no treatings, but take a word for all. You shall no more dishonour my daughter, nor molest my lodgings, as you have done at all hours.
Dap. Do you intend to change 'em, then, to Bridewell, or Long's powdering-tub?[41]
Mrs. Cros. No, to a bailiff's house, and then you'll be so civil, I presume, as not to trouble us.
Ran. Here, will you have my comb again, Dapperwit?
Dap. A pox! I think women take inconstancy from me worse than from any man breathing.
Mrs. Cros. Pray, sir, forget me before you write your next lampoon. [Exit.