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210 WILLIAM CONGREVE [ACT i
and her uncle old Foresight; I think your father lies at
Foresight's.
Vol. Yes.
Tat. Upon my soul, Angelica's a fine woman.—And so
is Mrs. Foresight, and her sister Mrs, Frail.
Scan. Yes, Mrs. Frail is a very fine woman; we all know
her.
Tat. Oh, that is not fair!
Scan. What?
Tat. To tell.
Scan. To tell what? why, what do you know of Mrs.
Frail?
Tat. Who, I? upon honour I don't know whether she be
man ur woman; but, by the smoothness of her chin, and
roundness of her hips.
Scan. No!
Tat. No.
Scan. She says otherwise.
Tat. Impossible!
Scan. Yes, faith. Ask Valentine else.
Tat. Why then, as I hope to be saved, I believe a
woman only obliges a man to secrecy, that she may have the
pleasure of telling herself.
Scan. No doubt on't. Well, but has she done you wrong,
or no? you have had her? ha?
Tat. Though I have more honour than to tell first, I
have more manners than to contradict what a lady has
declared.
Scan. Well, you own it?
Tat. I am strangely surprised!—Yes, yes, I can't deny't,
if she tables me with it.
Scan. She'll be here by-and-by, she sees Valentine every
morning.
Tat. How?
Val. She does me the favour, I mean, of a visit sometimes.
I did not think she had granted more to anybody.
Scan. Nor I, faith; but Tattle does not use to belie a
lady; it is contrary to his character.—How one may be deceived
in a woman, Valentine!
Tat. Nay, what do you mean, gentlemen?
Scan. I'm resolved I'll ask her.
Tat. O barbarous! why, did you not tell me—
Scan. No, you told us.