MRS. FORE. A cunning cur, how soon he could find out a fresh, harmless creature; and left us, sister, presently. TATT. Upon reputation MRS. FORE. They’re all so, sister, these men. They love to have the spoiling of a young thing, they are as fond of it, as of being first in the fashion, or of seeing a new play the first day. I warrant it would break Mr. Tattle’s heart to think that anybody else should be beforehand with him. TATT. O Lord, I swear I would not for the world— MRS. FRAIL. O hang you; who’ll believe you? You’d be hanged before you’d confess. We know you—she’s very pretty! Lord, what pure red and white!—she looks so wholesome; ne’er stir: I don’t know, but I fancy, if I were a man— MISS. How you love to jeer one, cousin. MRS. FORE. Hark’ee, sister, by my soul the girl is spoiled already. D’ee think she’ll ever endure a great lubberly tarpaulin? Gad, I warrant you she won’t let him come near her after Mr. Tattle. MRS. FRAIL. O my soul, I’m afraid not—eh!—filthy creature, that smells all of pitch and tar. Devil take you, you confounded toad—why did you see her before she was married? MRS. FORE. Nay, why did we let him—my husband will hang us. He’ll think we brought ’em acquainted. MRS. FRAIL. Come, faith, let us be gone. If my brother Foresight should find us with them, he’d think so, sure enough. MRS. FORE. So he would—but then leaving them together is as bad: and he’s such a sly devil, he’ll never miss an opportunity. MRS. FRAIL. I don’t care; I won’t be seen in’t. MRS. FORE. Well, if you should, Mr. Tattle, you’ll have a world to answer for; remember I wash my hands of it. I’m thoroughly innocent. SCENE XI. TATTLE, MISS PRUE. MISS. What makes ’em go away, Mr. Tattle? What do they mean, do you know? TATT. Yes my dear; I think I can guess, but hang me if I know the reason of it. MISS. Come, must not we go too? TATT. No, no, they don’t mean that. MISS. No! What then? What shall you and I do together? TATT. I must make love to you, pretty Miss; will you let me make love to you? MISS. Yes, if you please. TATT. Frank, i’Gad, at least. What a pox does Mrs. Foresight mean by this civility? Is it to make a fool of me? Or does she leave us together out of good morality, and do as she would be done by?—Gad, I’ll understand it so. [_Aside_.] MISS. Well; and how will you make love to me—come, I long to have you begin,—must I make love too? You must tell me how. TATT. You must let me speak, Miss, you must not speak first; I must ask you questions, and you must answer. MISS. What, is it like the catechism? Come then, ask me. TATT. D’ye think you can love me? MISS. Yes. TATT. Pooh, pox, you must not say yes already; I shan’t care a farthing for you then in a twinkling. MISS. What must I say then? TATT. Why you must say no, or you believe not, or you can’t tell— MISS. Why, must I tell a lie then?