[_To the Mercer._] Mr. _Farendine_, this Silk has so glaring a Mixture of preposterous Colours, I shall be taken for a North Country Bride; and so very substantial, I believe you design'd it for my Heirs and Successours. _Mer._ Madam, 'tis a very well wrought Silk. L. _Rod._ So well wrought, it may serve one in a Family for twenty Generations.--Have you sold any Wedding Suits lately? _Mer._ Yes, Madam, I sold a yellow and white Damask, lin'd with a Cherry and blew Sattin, and a Goslin green Petticoat to Mrs. _Winifred Widgeon_ i'the Peak, that marry'd Squire _Hog_ o' _Darby_,--'twas her Grandmother _Trott_'s Fancy. L. _Rod._ Nay, those old Governants, that were Dames of Honour to Queen _Bess_, make their Daughters appear as monstrous in this Age, as they themselves did in that.--Well, Mr. _Farendine_, when you have any thing slight and pretty, let me see it. [_To the Manto-Maker_] Mrs. _Flounce_, this Sleeve is most abominably cut. _Mant. Mak._ Madam, 'tis exacly the Shape of my Lady _Snipe's_, and she s allow'd to be the Pink o'the Mode. L. _Rod._ My Lady _Snipe_, who ever heard of her? Mrs. _Lov._ Oh! Madam, that's the over-dress'd Lady in _Fuller's Rents_, the first in _England_, that wore Flow'rs in her Hair; She has 5000_l._ indeed, but they say 'tis in bad Hands, and the Town has neglected her these ten Years. L. _Rod._ And wou'd you have me appear like a Turn-stile Creature? why d'you work for such Trumpery? have you not Business enough from Court. _Mant. Mak._ Truly, Madam, I'm glad to accept of a Gown from any Body; for the Ladies, now-a-days, are grown so saving, they make all their Petticoats themselves. L. _Rod._ Don't you work into the City too? _Mant. Mak._ Yes, Madam, I have eleven Gowns to finish against Sunday, for very good Customers, and very religious People. L. _Rod._ Religious People! This Creature is so employ'd by the _Canaille_, I shall have my Cloths cut to pieces, dear Cozen, let _Buda_ make me a Suit with Expedition, I'll present this to the Play-House. _Semp._ Does your Ladyship like your Head, Madam? L. _Rod._ The Lace, Mrs. _Taffety_, is so course and so heavy, I'm ready to sink beneath the weight of it. _Semp._ Madam, 'tis right _Mechlin_, cost me Six Guineas a Yard, and I bought it too of a Merchant, that has smuggl'd many a hundred Pounds worth. L. _Rod._ There you please me, English People are extremely fond of what's forbid, we commonly obey our Parents, and the Government much a-like; and tho' the State prohibits _Flanders_ Lace, French Alamodes, and India Sattins, we have 'em all by the way of _Holland_.--These Ruffles too are so furiously starch'd, I shall throw People down as I move along. _Semp._ The Ladies, Madam, love a stiff Ruffle, for shou'd the Wind blow it aside, your Ladyship's Elbow might catch cold, but I'll slacken my Hand i'the next.--Does your Ladyship want a very fine short Apron?