_Aml._ Now the Lord love thee [_Kissing him._]----for thou art a goodly young man: Well, Dick----And how goes it with the lady? Are her eyes open to thy charms? Does she see what's for her own good? Is she sensible of the blessings thou hast in store for her? Ha! is all sure? Hast thou broke a piece of money with her? Speak, bird, do: Don't be modest, and hide thy love from thy mother, for I'm an indulgent parent. _Dick._ Nothing under heaven can prevent my good fortune, but its being discover'd I'm your son---- _Aml._ Then thou art still asham'd of thy natural mother.--Graceless! Why, I'm no whore, sirrah. _Dick._ I know you are not----A whore! Bless us all---- _Aml._ No; My reputation's as good as the best of 'em; and tho' I'm old, I'm chaste, you rascal you. _Dick._ Lord, that is not the thing we talk of, mother; but---- _Aml._ I think, as the world goes, they may be proud of marrying their daughter into a vartuous family. _Dick._ Oons, vartue is not the case---- _Aml._ Where she may have a good example before her eyes. _Dick._ O Lord! O Lord! O Lord! _Aml._ I'm a woman that don't so much as encourage an incontinent look towards me. _Dick._ I tell you, 'sdeath, I tell you---- _Aml._ If a man shou'd make an uncivil motion to me, I'd spit in his lascivious face: And all this you may tell them, sirrah. _Dick._ Death and furies! the woman's out of her-- _Aml._ Don't you swear, you rascal you, don't you swear; we shall have thee damn'd at last, and then I shall be disgrac'd. _Dick._ Why then in cold blood hear me speak to you: I tell you it's a city-fortune I'm about, she cares not a fig for your virtue; she'll hear of nothing but quality: She has quarrell'd with one of her friends for having a better complexion, and is resolved she'll marry, to take place of her. _Aml._ What a cherry lip is there! _Dick._ Therefore, good dear mother, now have a care and don't discover me; for if you do, all's lost. _Aml._ Dear, dear, how thy fair bride will be delighted: Go, get thee gone, go: Go fetch her home, go fetch her home; I'll give her a sack-posset, and a pillow of down she shall lay her head upon. Go fetch her home, I say. _Dick._ Take care then of the main chance, my dear mother; remember, if you discover me---- _Aml._ Go, fetch her home, I say. _Dick._ You promise me then---- _Aml._ March. _Dick._ But swear to me---- _Aml._ Be gone, sirrah. _Dick._ Well, I'll rely upon you--But one kiss before I go. [_Kisses her heartily, and runs off._ _Aml._ Now the Lord love thee! for thou art a comfortable young man. [_Exit Mrs. ~Amlet~._ +SCENE+, Gripe's _House_. _Enter ~Corinna~ and ~Flippanta~._ _Cor._ But hark you, _Flippanta_, if you don't think he loves me dearly, don't give him my letter, after all. _Flip._ Let me alone. _Cor._ When he has read it, let him give it you again. _Flip._ Don't trouble yourself.