JOYCE. Marry, enough, I'll warrant thee. First and foremost, I'll tell him thou read'st love-passions in print, and speakest every morning without book to thy looking-glass: next, that thou never sleepest till an hour after the bellman: that, as soon as thou art asleep, thou art in a dream, and in a dream thou art the kindest and comfortablest bed-fellow for kissings and embracings: by this hand, I cannot rest for thee: but our father---- _Enter_ SIR LIONEL. SIR LIONEL. How now! what are you two consulting on? On husbands? You think you lose time, I am sure; but hold your own a little, girls; it shall not be long ere I'll provide for you: and for you, Gertrude, I have bethought myself already. Whirlpit, the usurer, is late deceas'd: A man of unknown wealth, which he has left Unto a provident kinsman, as I hear, That was once servant to that unthrift Staines. A prudent gentleman they say he is, And, as I take it, called Master Bubble. JOYCE. Bubble! [_She makes a grimace._ SIR LIONEL. Yes, nimble-chaps; what say you to that? JOYCE. Nothing; but that I wish his Christian name were Water.[168] GERT. Sir, I'm at your disposing; but my mind Stands not as yet towards marriage. Were you so pleas'd, I would a little longer Enjoy the quiet of a single bed. SIR LIONEL. Here's the right trick of them all: let a man Be motion'd to 'em, they could be content To lead a single life, forsooth: when the harlots Do pine and run into diseases, Eat chalk and oatmeal, cry and creep in corners, Which are manifest tokens of their longings; And yet they will dissemble. [_Aside._] But, Gertude, As you do owe me reverence, and will pay it, Prepare yourself to like this gentleman, Who can maintain thee in thy choice of gowns, Of tires, of servants, and of costly jewels; Nay for a need, out of his easy nature, May'st draw him to the keeping of a coach For country, and caroch[169] for London: Indeed, what might'st thou not? _Enter a_ SERVANT. SER. Sir, here's one come from Master Bubble. To invite you to the funeral of his uncle. SIR LIONEL. Thank the messenger, and make him drink. Tell him, I will not fail to wait the corse: Yet stay, I will go talk with him myself. Gertrude, think upon what I have told you, And let me, ere it be long, receive your answer. [_Exeunt_ SIR LIONEL _and_ SERVANT. JOYCE. Sister, sister! GERT. What say you, sister? JOYCE. Shall I provide a cord? GERT. A cord! what to do? JOYCE. Why, to let thee out at the window. Do not I know that thou wilt run away with the gentleman for whom you made the passion, rather than endure this same Bubble that my father talks of? 'Twere good you would let me be of your counsel, lest I break the neck of your plot.