TATTLE, MISS PRUE.
O Mr Tattle, are you here? I'm glad I have found you; I have
been looking up and down for you like anything, till I'm as tired as
anything in the world.
Oh, pox, how shall I get rid of this foolish girl? [Aside.]
Oh, I have pure news, I can tell you, pure news. I must not
marry the seaman now--my father says so. Why won't you be my
husband? You say you love me, and you won't be my husband. And I
know you may be my husband now, if you please.
Oh, fie, miss; who told you so, child?
Why, my father. I told him that you loved me.
Oh, fie, miss; why did you do so? And who told you so,
Who? Why, you did; did not you?
Oh, pox, that was yesterday, miss, that was a great while
ago, child. I have been asleep since; slept a whole night, and did
not so much as dream of the matter.
Pshaw--oh, but I dreamt that it was so, though.
Ay, but your father will tell you that dreams come by
contraries, child. Oh, fie; what, we must not love one another now.
Pshaw, that would be a foolish thing indeed. Fie, fie, you're a
woman now, and must think of a new man every morning and forget him
every night. No, no, to marry is to be a child again, and play with
the same rattle always. Oh, fie, marrying is a paw thing.
Well, but don't you love me as well as you did last night
No, no, child, you would not have me.
No? Yes, but I would, though.
Pshaw, but I tell you you would not. You forget you're a
woman and don't know your own mind.
But here's my father, and he knows my mind.