Ch. Maid. [ſipping.] 'Tis very fine indeed!—[ſips.] and charmingly perfum'd—it ſmells for all the world like our young ladies dreſſing-boxes.
Bruſh. You have an excellent taſte, Madam, and I muſt beg of you to accept of a few cakes for your own drinking, [takes 'em out of a drawer in the table.] and in return, I deſire nothing but to taſte the perfume of your lips—[kiſſes her.]—A ſmall return of favours, Madam, will make, I hope, this country and retirement agreeable to both. [he bows, ſhe curtſies.] Your young ladies are fine girls, faith: [ſips.] tho' upon my ſoul, I am quite of my old lord's mind about them; and were I inclin'd to matrimony, I ſhould take the youngeſt. [ſips.]
Ch. Maid. Miſs Fanny's the moſt affableſt and the moſt beſt nater'd creter!
Bruſh. And the eldeſt a little haughty or ſo
Ch. Maid. More haughtier and prouder than Saturn himſelf—but this I ſay quite confidential to you, for one would not hurt a young lady's marriage, you know. [ſips.]
Bruſh. By no means, but you can't hurt it with us—we don't conſider tempers—we want money, Mrs. Nancy—give us enough of that, we'll abate you a great deal in other particulars—ha, ha, ha.
Ch. Maid. Bleſs me, here's ſomebody—[bell rings.]—O! 'tis my Lord—Well, your ſervant, Mr. Bruſh—I'll clean the cups in the next room.
Bruſh. Do ſo—but never mind the bell—I ſhan't go this half hour.—Will you drink tea with me in the afternoon?
Ch. Maid. Not for the world, Mr. Bruſh—I'll be here to ſet all things to rights—but I muſt not drink tea indeed—and ſo your ſervant. [Exit Maid with tea-board.
[Bell rings again.]
Bruſh. It is impoſſible to ſtupify one's ſelf in the country for a week without ſome little flirting with the Abigails:—this is much the handſomeſt wench in the houſe, except the old citizen's youngeſt
daughter,
