Fash. And the old Jezebel with her.

Re-enter Miss Hoyden and Nurse.

How do you do, good Mrs. Nurse? I desired your young lady would give me leave to see you, that I might thank you for your extraordinary care and kind conduct in her education: pray accept this small acknowledgment for it at present, and depend upon my further kindness when I shall be that happy thing her husband.

[Gives her money.

Nurse. [Aside.] Gold, by the maakins!—[Aloud.] Your honour’s goodness is too great. Alas! all I can boast of is, I gave her pure and good milk, and so your honour would have said, an you had seen how the poor thing thrived, and how it would look up in my face, and crow and laugh, it would.

Miss Hoyd. [To Nurse, taking her angrily aside.] Pray, one word with you. Pr’ythee, nurse, don’t stand ripping up old stories, to make one ashamed before one’s love. Do you think such a fine proper gentleman as he is cares for a fiddlecome tale of a child? If you have a mind to make him have a good opinion of a woman, don’t tell him what one did then, tell him what one can do now.—[To Tom Fashion.] I hope your honour will excuse my mismanners to whisper before you. It was only to give same orders about the family.

Fash. Oh, everything, madam, is to give way to business; besides, good housewifery is a very commendable quality in a young lady.

Miss Hoyd. Pray, sir, are young ladies good housewives at London-town? Do they darn their own linen?

Fash. Oh no, they study how to spend money, not to save.

Miss Hoyd. Ecod, I don’t know but that may be better sport, eh, nurse?

Fash. Well, you shall have your choice, when you come there.

Miss Hoyd. Shall I? then, by my troth, I’ll get there as fast as I can.—[To Nurse.] His honour desires you’ll be so kind as to let us be married to-morrow.

Nurse. To-morrow, my dear madam?

Fash. Ay, faith, nurse, you may well be surprised at miss’s wanting to put it off so long. To-morrow! no, no; ’tis now, this very hour, I would have the ceremony performed.

Miss Hoyd. Ecod, with all my heart.

Nurse. O mercy? worse and worse!

Fash. Yes, sweet nurse, now and privately; for all things being signed and sealed, why should Sir Tunbelly make us stay a week for a wedding-dinner?

Nurse. But if you should be married now, what will you do when Sir Tunbelly calls for you to be married?

Miss Hoyd. Why then we will be married again.

Nurse. What twice, my child?

Miss Hoyd. Ecod, I don’t care how often I’m married, not I.