_Miss H._ Why I thought it was to-morrow morning as soon as I was up, I am sure nurse told me so. _Fash._ And it shall be to-morrow morning still, if you'll consent. _Miss H._ If I'll consent! Why I thought I was to obey you as my husband. _Fash._ That's when we're married, till then I am to obey you. _Miss H._ 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. _Fash._ With all my heart; but I doubt we must get nurse on our side, or we shall hardly prevail with the chaplain. _Miss H._ O Lord, I can tell you a way how to persuade her to anything. _Fash._ How's that? _Miss H._ Why tell her she's a wholesome comely woman, and give her half-a-crown. _Fash._ Nay, if that will do, she shall have half a score of them. _Miss H._ O gemini! for half that she'd marry you herself. I'll run and call her. _Fash._ So matters go swimmingly. This is a rare girl i' faith. I shall have a fine time on't with her in London, I'm much mistaken if she don't prove a March hare all the year round. What a scampering chase will she on't, when she finds the whole kennel of beaux at her tail! hey to the park, and the play, and the church and the devil; she'll show them sport, I'll warrant 'em. But no matter, she brings me an estate that will afford me a separate maintenance. The following from "The Provoked Husband," gives a good specimen of social hypocrisy. _Servant._ Madam, here's my Lady Fanciful to wait upon your ladyship. _Lady Brute._ Shield me, kind heaven! what an inundation of impertinence is here coming upon us! At the end of this unwelcome visit, we have the following hit at the ceremonious politeness then fashionable. _Lady B._ What going already, madam. _Lady Fan._ I must beg you excuse me this once, for really I have eighteen visits to return this afternoon. So you see I am importuned by the women as well as by the men. _Bel._ (_aside_). And she's quits with 'em both. _Lady F._ Nay, you shan't go one step out of the room. _Lady B._ Indeed, I'll wait upon you down. _Lady F._ No sweet, Lady Brute, you know I swoon at ceremony. _Lady B._ Pray give me leave. _Lady F._ You know I wont. _Lady B._ Indeed I must. _Lady F._ Indeed you shan't. _Lady B._ Indeed I will. _Lady F._ Indeed you shan't. _Lady B._ Indeed I will. _Lady F._ Indeed you shan't, indeed, indeed, indeed you shan't. (_Exit running._) The aversions and disputes of husbands and wives furnish the subject of some of his humour. Sir John Brute says:-- "Sure if women had been ready created, the devil instead of being kicked down in hell had been married." _Lady Brute._ Are you afraid of being in love, Sir?