_Bull._ [_To Young Fash._] Pray, Sir, then will you but permit me to speak one word in private with Nurse? _Young Fash._ Thou art always for doing something in private with Nurse. _Coup._ But pray let his Betters be serv'd before him for once. I would do something in private with her myself; _Lory_, take care of this Reverend Gownman in the next Room a little. Retire, Priest. [_Exit ~Lo~. with ~Bull~._]--Now, Virgin, I must put the matter home to you a little: Do you think it might not be possible to make you speak Truth? _Nurse._ Alas! Sir, I don't know what you mean by Truth. _Coup._ Nay,'tis possible thou may'st be a Stranger to it. _Young Fash._ Come, Nurse, you and I were better Friends when we saw one another last; and I still believe you are a very good Woman in the bottom. I did deceive you and your young Lady, 'tis true, but I always design'd to make a very good Husband to her, and to be a very good Friend to you. And 'tis possible in the end, she might have found herself happier and you richer, than ever my Brother will make you. _Nurse._ Brother! Why is your Worship then his Lordship's Brother! _Young Fash._ I am; which you should have known, if I durst have staid to have told you; but I was forc'd to take Horse a little in haste, you know. _Nurse._ You were, indeed, Sir: poor young Man, how he was bound to scaure for't. Now won't your Worship be angry, if I confess the Truth to you; when I found you were a Cheat (with respect be it spoken) I verily believ'd Miss had got some pitiful Skip-Jack Varlet or other to her Husband, or I had ne'er let her think of marrying again. _Coup._ But where was your Conscience all this while, Woman? Did not that stare you in the Face with huge Saucer-eyes, and a great Horn upon the Forehead? Did not you think you should be damn'd for such a Sin? Ha! _Young Fash._ Well said, Divinity, press that home upon her. _Nurse._ Why, in good truly, Sir, I had some fearful Thoughts on't, and cou'd never be brought to consent, till Mr. _Bull_ said it was a _Peckadilla_, and he'd secure my Soul for a Tythe-Pig. _Young Fash._ There was a Rogue for you. _Coup._ And he shall thrive accordingly: He shall have a good Living. Come, honest _Nurse_, I see you have Butter in your Compound; you can melt. Some Compassion you can have of this handsome young Fellow. _Nurse._ I have, indeed, Sir. _Young Fash._ Why, then, I'll tell you what you shall do for me. You know what a warm Living here is fallen; and that it must be in the Disposal of him who has the Disposal of Miss. Now if you and the Doctor will agree to prove my Marriage, I'll present him to it, upon condition he makes you his Bride. _Nurse._ Naw the Blessing of the Lord follow your good Worship both by Night and by Day! Let him be fetch'd in by the Ears; I'll soon bring his Nose to the Grindstone. _Coup._ [_Aside._] Well said, old Whit-Leather. Hey; bring in the Prisoner there. _Enter ~Lory~ with ~Bull~._