_Bett_. Thee, Child, Lord starve thee, a Foot Soldier! one o'the Infantry,
a Lady that's Fool enough to pay for her Pleasures, may provide her self
better out o' the Guards.--Come, gi'me t'other Bumper, nothing's to be got
here, I find, and I must run.

_Shr_. Why in such hast, _Betty_?

_Bett_. Haste, Creature, why the Fourth Act is just done, and t'other bold
Beast will run away with all the Money.

_Knap_. Hark'e, _Bess_, don't stroddle over Peoples Backs so as you us'd
to do.

_Bett_. Why, how now, Mr. Impudence, I think we do 'em too great an
Honour, and whoever affronts me for it I'll have him kick'd as soon as the
Play's over. [_Exit._

_Shr_. Come, my dear Boy, let's tope it about briskly; what think you of
this Lass? is she not frank and free? If you had her in a Corner, she'd
show you the way to _Lyme-house._

_Tott_. Are all your _London_ Women like her? Our Country Wenches are as
Cross with treading upon Nettles; there's _Margery_ our Dairy-Maid, I only
offer'd to feel her Bubbies, and she hit me a dowse o'the Jaws enough to
beat down a Stack o' Chimneys.

_Shr_. We'll carry you to a Lady, Master, that shall stifle you with
Kindness, as pretty a piece of Wild-fowl as paddles about _Covent Garden_;
but you'll tip her a Guinea, her Lodgings are extremely fine; and you must
know a first Floor comes very dear.