_Miss._ O, but for that, don't deceive yourself, Nurse. For this I must [_Snapping her Fingers._] say for my Lord, and a----for him: He's as free as an open House at _Christmas_. For this very Morning he told me, I shou'd have two hundred a-year to buy Pins. Now, Nurse, if he gives me two hundred a-year to buy Pins, what do you think he'll give me to buy fine Petticoats? _Nurse._ Ah, my Dearest, he deceives these faully, and he's no better than a Rogue for his pains. These _Londoners_ have got a Gibberidge with them, would confound a Gipsey. That which they call Pin-money, is to buy their Wives every thing in the varsal World, down to their very Shoe-tyes? Nay, I have heard Folks say, That some Ladies, if they will have Gallants, as they call 'em, are forc'd to find them out of their Pin-money too. _Miss._ Has he serv'd me so, say ye?----Then I'll be his Wife no longer, that's fixt. Look, here he comes, with all the fine Folks at 's heels. I'cod, Nurse, these _London_ Ladies will laugh till they crack again, to see me slip my Collar, and run away from my Husband. But, d'ye hear? Pray take care of one thing: When the Business comes to break out, be sure you get between me and my Father, for you know his Tricks; he'll knock me down. _Nurse._ I'll mind him, ne'er fear, Madam. _Enter Lord ~Foppington~, ~Loveless~, ~Worthy~, ~Amanda~, and ~Berinthia~._ _Lord Fop._ Ladies and Gentlemen, you are all welcome. [_To_ Lov.] _Loveless_----That's my Wife; pr'ythee do me the favour to salute her: And do'st hear, [_Aside to him._] if thau hast a mind to try thy Fartune, to be reveng'd of me, I won't take it ill, stap my Vitals. _Lov._ You need not fear, Sir, I'm too fond of my own Wife, to have the least Inclination for yours. [_All salute Miss._ _Lord Fop._ [_Aside._] I'd give a thausand Paund he wou'd make Love to her, that he may see she has sense enough to prefer me to him, tho' his own Wife has not: [_Viewing him._]--He's a very beastly Fellow, in my Opinion. _Miss._ [_Aside._] What a Power of fine Men there are in this _London_! He that kist me first, is a goodly Gentleman, I promise you: Sure those Wives have a rare time on't, that live here always. _Enter Sir ~Tunbelly~, with Musicians, Dancers, ~&c.~_ Sir _Tun._ Come, come in, good People, come in; come, tune your Fiddles, tune your Fiddles. _To the Hautboys._] Bag-pipes, make ready there. Come, strike up. [_Sings._ _For this is ~Hoyden~'s Wedding-day; And therefore we keep Holy-day, And come to be merry._ Ha! there's my Wench, I'faith: Touch and take, I'll warrant her; she'll breed like a tame Rabbit. _Miss._ [_Aside._] I'cod, I think my Father's gotten drunk before Supper.