Points, and Garniture.

_Friend_. If she be clean, and pretty, and drest in Love, I can excuse
the rest, and so will she.

Sir _Tim_. I vow to Fortune, _Ned_, thou must come to _London_, and be a
little manag'd: 'slife, Man, shouldst thou talk so aloud in good
Company, thou wouldst be counted a strange Fellow. Pretty--and drest
with Love--a fine Figure, by Fortune: No, _Ned_, the painted Chariot
gives a Lustre to every ordinary Face, and makes a Woman look like
Quality; Ay, so like, by Fortune, that you shall not know one from
t'other, till some scandalous, out-of-favour'd laid-aside Fellow of the
Town, cry--Damn her for a Bitch--how scornfully the Whore regards
me--She has forgot since _Jack_--such a one, and I, club'd for the
keeping of her, when both our Stocks well manag'd wou'd not amount to
above seven Shillings six Pence a week; besides now and then a Treat of
a Breast of Mutton from the next Cook's.--Then the other laughs, and
crys--Ay, rot her--and tells his Story too, and concludes with, Who
manages the Jilt now; Why, faith, some dismal Coxcomb or other, you may
be sure, replies the first. But, _Ned_, these are Rogues, and Rascals,
that value no Man's Reputation, because they despise their own. But
faith, I have laid aside all these Vanities, now I have thought of
Matrimony; but I desire my Reformation may be a Secret, because, as you
know, for a Man of my Address, and the rest--'tis not altogether
so Jantee.

_Friend_. Sir, I assure you, it shall be so great a Secret for me, that
I will never ask you who the happy Woman is, that's chosen for this
great Work of your Conversion.