TATTLE, MISS PRUE.
O Lord, she's coming, and she'll tell my father; what shall I
Pox take her; if she had stayed two minutes longer, I should
have wished for her coming.
O dear, what shall I say? Tell me, Mr Tattle, tell me a lie.
There's no occasion for a lie; I could never tell a lie to no
purpose. But since we have done nothing, we must say nothing, I
think. I hear her,--I'll leave you together, and come off as you
can. [Thrusts her in, and shuts the door.]