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from the flames, that can never be matched-1 Sir Tho. You oblige me for ever. Now the Take her.
secret dies with us four. My fault. I owe him Beo. And as you love your own secret, be much. careful of ours. Rust. I am dumb.
Be it your care to show it; Sir Tho. Now, Juliet.
| And bless the man, though I have damned the Jul. You join me, sir, to an unfortunate bard; , poet, but, to procure your peace
Jen. Why, to be sure, we have plenty of cus-1 Sim. That engrosser and seducer of virgins ? tomers, and for various kinds of commodities; it Jen. Keep it up, Master Simon. would be pretty difficult, I fancy, to
Sim. That forestaller of bagnios? Sim. Commodities! Your huinble servant, Jen. Incomparably fine ! sweet Mrs. Jane; yes, yes, you have various kinds Sim. That canting, cozeniny, money-lending, of comodities, indeed.
match-making, pawnbrokiny Jen. Mr. Simon, I don't understand you; I
[ Loud knocking. suppose it is no secret in what sort of goods our Jen. Mighty well, sir! here comes my misdealiny consists?
| tress ; she shall thank you for the pretty picture Sin. No, no; they are pretty well known. you have been pleased to draw.
Jen, And, to be sure, though now and then, to Sim. Nay, but, dear Jenny oblige a customer, my inistress does condescend! Jen. She shall be told how lightly she stands to sinugule a little
in your favour. Sim. Keep it up, Mrs. Jane!
Sim. But, my sweet girl [Knock again. Jen. Yet there are no people in the liberty of Jen. Let me go, Mr. Simon? don't you hear? Westminster, that live jo more credit than we Sim. And can you have the heart to ruin me do.
at once? Sim. Bravo!
Jen. Hands off! Jen. The very best of quality are not ashamed Sim. A peace, a peace, my dear Mrs. Jane, to visit my mistress.
and dictate the articles. Sim. They have reason. Jon. Respected by the neighbours.
Enter Mrs. MECHLIN, followed by a HackneySim. I know it.
Couchman, with several bundles, in a capuJen. Punctual in her payments.
chin, a bonnet, and her clouths pinned up. Sim. To a moment. Jen. Regular hours.
Mrs. Mech. So, hussy! what, must I stay all Sim. Doubtless.
day in the streets ? Who have we here? The deJen. Never miss the sarmant on Sundays. vil's in the wenches, I think!-One of your felSim. I own it.
lows, I suppose -Oh, is it you? How fares it, Jen. Not an oath comes out of her mouth, Simon? unless now and then, when the poor gentlewo- Jen. Madam, you should not have waited a man happens to be overtaken in liquor.
minute ; but Mr. Simon Sim. Granted.
Sim. Hush, hush! you barbarous jadeJen. Not at all given to lying, but, like other | Jen. Knowing your knock, and eager to open tradesfolks, in the way of her business.
the door, flew up stairs, fell over the landingSim. Very well.
place, and quite barred up the way. Jen. Very well! then pray, sir, what would Sim. Yes; and I am afraid I have put out my you insinuate? Look you, Mr. Simon, don't go to ancle. Thanks, Jenny; you shall be no loser, cast reflections upon us; don't think to blast the you slut.
[Aside. reputation of our
Mrs. Mech. Poor Simon! Oh, Lord have Sim. Hark ye, Jenny, are you serious ? mercy upon me, what a round have I taken ? Jen. Serious ! Ay, marry am I.
Is the wench petrified? Why don't you reach me Sim. The devil you are !
a chair? don't you see I am tired to death? Jen. Upon my word, Mr. Simon, you should Jen. Indeed, madam, you'll bill yourself, not give your tongue such a licence; let me tell Sim. Upon my word, Madam Mechlin, you you, these airs do not become you at all. should take a little care of yourself; indeed you
Sim. Hey-day! why, where the deuce have I labour too hard. got? Sure, I have mistaken the house; is not Mrs. Mech. Ay, Simon, and for little or nothis Mrs. Mechlin's ?
thing : only victuals and clothes : more cost thaa Jen. That's pretty well known.
worship Why does not the wench take the Sim. The commodious, convenient Mrs. Meche | things from the fellow? Well, what's your lin, at the sign of the Star, in the parish of St. fare? Paul's?
Coach. Mistress, 'tis honestly worth half-a Jen. Bravo!
crown. Sim. That commercial caterpillar?
Mrs. Mech. Give him a couple of shillings, Jen. I know it.
and send him away. Sim. That murderer of manufacturers ?
Coach. I hope you'll tip me the tester to Jen. Doubtless.
drink! Sim. That walking warehouse?
Mrs. Mech. Them there fellows are never Jen, Granted.
contented : Drink! Stand farther off! why, you Sim. That carries about a greater cargo of smell already as strong as a beer-barrel. contraband goods under her petticoats than a Coach. Mistress, that's because I have already Calais cutter?
been drinking. Jen. Very well.
Mrs. Mech. And are you not ashamed, you