all over sweet, his peruke is sweet, and his gloves are sweet, and
his handkerchief is sweet, pure sweet, sweeter than roses. Smell
him, mother--madam, I mean. He gave me this ring for a kiss.

TATT. O fie, Miss, you must not kiss and tell.

MISS. Yes; I may tell my mother. And he says he'll give me
something to make me smell so. Oh, pray lend me your handkerchief.
Smell, cousin; he says he'll give me something that will make my
smocks smell this way. Is not it pure? It's better than lavender,
mun. I'm resolved I won't let nurse put any more lavender among my
smocks--ha, cousin?

MRS FRAIL. Fie, Miss; amongst your linen, you must say. You must
never say smock.

MISS. Why, it is not bawdy, is it, cousin?

TATT. Oh, madam; you are too severe upon Miss; you must not find
fault with her pretty simplicity: it becomes her strangely. Pretty
Miss, don't let 'em persuade you out of your innocency.

MRS FORE. Oh, demm you toad. I wish you don't persuade her out of
her innocency.

TATT. Who, I, madam? O Lord, how can your ladyship have such a
thought? Sure, you don't know me.

MRS FRAIL. Ah devil, sly devil. He's as close, sister, as a
confessor. He thinks we don't observe him.