MISS HOYDEN. Oh, but for that, don’t deceive yourself, nurse; for this I must say of my lord, he’s as free as an open house at Christmas; for this very morning he told me I should have six hundred a year to buy pins. Now if he gives me six hundred a year to buy pins, what do you think he’ll give me to buy petticoats? NURSE. Ay, my dearest, he deceives thee foully, and he’s no better than a rogue for his pains! These Londoners have got a gibberish with ’em would confound a gipsy. That which they call pin-money, is to buy everything in the versal world, down to their very shoe-knots. Nay, I have heard some folks say that some ladies, if they’ll have gallants as they call ’em, are forced to find them out of their pin-money too.—But look, look, if his honour be not coming to you!—Now, if I were sure you would behave yourself handsomely, and not disgrace me that have brought you up, I’d leave you alone together. MISS HOYDEN. That’s my best nurse; do as you’d be done by. Trust us together this once, and if I don’t show my breeding, I wish I may never be married, but die an old maid. NURSE. Well, this once I’ll venture you. But if you disparage me— MISS HOYDEN. Never fear. [_Exit_ NURSE.] _Enter_ TOM FASHION. TOM FASHION. Your servant, madam; I’m glad to find you alone, for I have something of importance to speak to you about. MISS HOYDEN. Sir (my lord, I meant), you may speak to me about what you please, I shall give you a civil answer. TOM FASHION. You give so obliging an one, it encourages me to tell you in a few words what I think, both for your interest and mine. Your father, I suppose you know, has resolved to make me happy in being your husband; and I hope I may obtain your consent to perform what he desires. MISS HOYDEN. Sir, I never disobey my father in anything but eating green gooseberries. TOM FASHION. So good a daughter must needs be an admirable wife. I am therefore impatient till you are mine, and hope you will so far consider the violence of my love, that you won’t have the cruelty to defer my happiness so long as your father designs it. MISS HOYDEN. Pray, my lord, how long is that? TOM FASHION. Madam, a thousand years—a whole week. MISS HOYDEN. Why, I thought it was to be tomorrow morning, as soon as I was up. I’m sure nurse told me so. TOM FASHION. And it shall be tomorrow morning, if you’ll consent. MISS HOYDEN. If I’ll consent! Why I thought I was to obey you as my husband. TOM FASHION. That’s when we are married. Till then, I’m to obey you. MISS HOYDEN. Why then, if we are to take it by turns, it’s the same thing. I’ll obey you now, and when we are married you shall obey me. TOM FASHION. With all my heart. But I doubt we must get nurse on our side, or we shall hardly prevail with the chaplain. MISS HOYDEN. No more we shan’t, indeed; for he loves her better than he loves his pulpit, and would always be a-preaching to her by his good will.