Chapter 11

_Enter Mrs_. Driver _and_ Betty Flauntit.

_Flaunt_. _Driver_, prithee call for a Glass, that I may set my self in order, before I go up; for really my Knight has not been at home all this Night, and I am so confus’d--

_Enter one with a Glass, and two Wenches_, Jenny _and_ Doll.

Lord, Mrs. _Driver_, I wonder you shou’d send for me, when other Women are in Company; you know of all things in the World, I hate Whores, they are the pratingst leudest poor Creatures in Nature; and I wou’d not, for any thing, Sir _Timothy_ shou’d know that I keep Company, ‘twere enough to lose him.

Mrs. _Driv_. Truly, Mrs. _Flauntit_, this young Squire that you were Sent to for, has two or three Persons more with him that must be accommodated too.

_Flaunt_. _Driver_, though I do recreate my self a little sometimes, yet you know I value my Reputation and Honour.

_Jenny_. Mrs. _Driver_, why shou’d you send for us where _Flauntit_ is? a stinking proud Flirt, who because she has a tawdry Petticoat, I warrant you, will think her self so much above us, when if she were set out in her own natural Colours, and her original Garments, wou’d be much below us in Beauty.

Mrs. _Driv_. Look ye, Mrs. _Jenny_, I know you, and I know Mrs. _Flauntit_; but ‘tis not Beauty or Wit that takes now-a-days; the Age is altered since I took upon me this genteel Occupation: but ‘tis a fine Petticoat, right Points, and clean Garnitures, that does me Credit, and takes the Gallant, though on a stale Woman. And again, Mrs. _Jenny_, she’s kept, and Men love as much for Malice, as for Lechery, as they call it. Oh, ‘tis a great Mover to Joy, as they say, to have a Woman that’s kept.

_Jen_. Well! Be it so, we may arrive to that excellent Degree of Cracking, to be kept too one day.

Mrs. _Driv_. Well, well, get your selves in order to go up to the Gentlemen.

_Flaunt_. _Driver_, what art thou talking to those poor Creatures? Lord, how they stink of Paint and Pox, faugh--

Mrs. _Driv_. They were only complaining that you that were kept, shou’d intrude upon the Privileges of the Commoners.

_Flaunt_. Lord, they think there are such Joys in Keeping, when I vow, _Driver_, after a while, a Miss has as painful a Life as a Wife; our Men drink, stay out late, and whore, like any Husbands.

_Driv_. But I hope in the Lord, Mrs. _Flauntit_, yours is no such Man; I never saw him, but I have heard he’s under decent Correction.

_Flaunt_. Thou art mistaken, _Driver_, I can keep him within no moderate Bounds without Blows; but for his filthy Custom of Wenching, I have almost broke him of that--but prithee, _Driver_, who are these Gentlemen?

_Driv_. Truly, I know not; but they are young, and fine as Princes: two of ‘em were disguis’d in masking Habits last Night, but they have sent ’.m away this Morning, and they are free as Emperors--One of ‘em has lost a Thousand Pound at Play, and never repin’d at it; one’s a Knight, and I believe his Courage is cool’d, for he has ferreted my Maids over and over to Night--But ‘tis the fine, young, handsom Squire that I design you for.

_Flaunt_. No matter for his Handsomness, let me have him that has most Money.

[_Exeunt_.