_Hip._ Ay; but to be delighted when we wake with a naughty dream, is a sin, aunt; and I am so very scrupulous, that I would as soon consent to a naughty man as to a naughty dream. _Mrs. Caut._ I do believe you. _Hip._ I am for going into the throng of temptations. _Mrs. Caut._ There I believe you again. _Hip._ And making myself so familiar with them, that I would not be concerned for 'em a whit. _Mrs. Caut._ There I do not believe you. _Hip._ And would take all the innocent liberty of the town:--to tattle to your men under a vizard in the playhouses, and meet 'em at night in masquerade. _Mrs. Caut._ There I do believe you again; I know you would be masquerading: but worse would come on't, as it has done to others who have been in a masquerade, and are now virgins but in masquerade, and will not be their own women again as long as they live. The children of this age must be wise children indeed if they know their fathers, since their mothers themselves cannot inform 'em! O, the fatal liberty of this masquerading age! when I was a young woman-- _Hip._ Come, come, do not blaspheme this masquerading age, like an ill-bred city-dame, whose husband is half broke by living in Covent-garden, or who has been turned out of the Temple or Lincoln's-Inn upon a masquerading night. By what I've heard, 'tis a pleasant, well-bred, complaisant, free, frolic, good-natured, pretty age: and if you do not like it, leave it to us that do. _Mrs. Caut._ Lord, how impudently you talk, niece! I'm sure I remember when I was a maid-- _Hip._ Can you remember it, reverend aunt? _Mrs. Caut._ Yes, modest niece,--that a raw young thing, though almost at woman's estate, (that was then at thirty or thirty-five years of age,) would not so much as have looked upon a man-- _Hip._ Above her father's butler or coachman. _Mrs. Caut._ Still taking me up! Well, thou art a mad girl; and so good night. We may go to bed; for I suppose now your father will not come to-night. [_Exit._ _Hip._ I'm sorry for it; for I long to see him.--[_Aside._] But I lie: I had rather see Gerrard here; and yet I know not how I shall like him. If he has wit, he will come; and if he has none, he would not be welcome. [_Exeunt._ SCENE II.--_The French House.--A table, bottles, and candles._ _Enter_ Mr. GERRARD, MARTIN, _and_ Monsieur de PARIS. _Mons._ 'Tis ver veritable, _jarni!_ what the French say of you Englis: you use the debauch so much, it cannot have with you the French operation; you are never enjoyee. But come, let us for once be _infiniment gaillard_, and sing a French sonnet. [_Sings,--"La bouteille, la bouteille, glou, glou."_ _Mar._ [_To_ GERRARD.] What a melodious fop it is! _Mons._ Auh! you have no complaisance. _Ger._ No, we can't sing; but we'll drink to you the lady's health, whom (you say) I have so long courted at her window.