Lady _Wrong._ Have you so, Sir? And pray who may you thank for't? Now! who is in the right? Is not this better than throwing so much away, after a stinking pack of fox-hounds, in the country? Now your family may be the better for it! Sir _Fran._ Nay! that's what persuaded me to come up, my Dove. Lady _Wrong._ Mighty well--come----let me have another hundred pound then. Sir _Fran._ Another! child? Waunds! you have had one hundred this morning, pray what's become of that, my dear? Lady _Wrong._ What's become of it? why I'll shew you, my Love! Jenny! have you the bills about you? _Jenny._ Yes, Mama. Lady _Wrong._ What's become of it? Why laid out, my dear, with fifty more to it, that I was forced to borrow of the Count here. _Jenny._ Yes, indeed, Papa, and that would hardly do neither--There's th' account. Sir _Fran._ [_Turning over the bills._] Let's see! let's see! what the devil have we got here? _Man._ Then you have sounded your aunt you } say, and she readily comes into all I propos'd } to you? } } _Myr._ Sir, I'll answer, with my life, she is } most thankfully yours in every article: she } mightily desires to see you, Sir. } _Apart._ } _Man._ I am going home directly; bring } her to my house in half an hour; and if she } makes good what you tell me, you shall both } find your account in it. } } _Myr._ She shall not fail you. } Sir _Fran._ Ods-life, Madam, here's nothing but toys and trinkets, and fans, and clock stockings, by whole-sale. Lady _Wrong._ There's nothing but what's proper, and for your credit, Sir _Francis_----Nay you see I am so good a housewife, that in necessaries for myself I have scarce laid out a shilling. Sir _Fran._ No, by my troth, so it seems; for the devil o' one thing's here, that I can see you have any occasion for! Lady _Wrong._ My dear! do you think I came hither to live out of the fashion? why, the greatest distinction of a fine lady in this town is in the variety of pretty things she has no occasion for. _Jenny._ Sure, Papa, could you imagine, that women of quality wanted nothing but stays and petticoats? Lady _Wrong._ Now, that is so like him! _Man._ So! the family comes on finely. [_Aside._ Lady _Wrong._ Lard, if men were always to govern, what dowdies would they reduce their wives to! Sir _Fran._ An hundred pound in the morning, and want another before night! waunds and fire! the Lord Mayor of London could not hold it at this rate! _Man._ O! do you feel it, Sir? [_Aside._ Lady _Wrong._ My dear, you seem uneasy; let me have the hundred pound, and compose yourself.