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SCENE III] LOVE FOR LOVE 235
Tat. Well, my witnesses are not present. But I confess I
have had favours from persons—but as the favours are
numberless, so the persons are nameless.
Scan. Pooh, this proves nothing.
Tat. No? I can show letters, lockets, pictures, and rings;
and if there be occasion for witnesses, I can summon the
maids at the chocolate-houses, all the porters at Pall-Mali
and Covcnt-Garden, the door-keepers at the play-house, the
drawers at Locket's, Pontac's, the Rummer, Spring-Garden;
10 my own landlady, and valet-de-chambre; all whn
shall make oath, that I receive more letters than the Secretary's
Office; and that I have more vizor-masks to inquire
for me than ever went to see the Hermaphrodite, or the
Naked Prince. And it is notorious, that in a country church,
once, an inquiry being made who I was, it was answered,
I was the famous Tattle, who had ruined so many women.
Val. It was there, I suppose, you got the nick-name of the
Great Turk.
Tat. True, I was callrd Turk-Tattle all over the parish.—
The next Sunday all the old women kept their daughters
at home, and the parson had not half his congregation. He
would have brought me into the spiritual court, but I was
revenged upon him, for he had a handsome daughter,
whom I initiated into the science. But I repented it afterwards,
for it was talked of in town; and a ladv of quality,
that shall be nameless, in a raging fit of jealousv, came
down in her coach and six horses, and exposed herself upon
my account; gad, I was sorry for it with all mv heart.—You
know whom I mean—you know where we raffled—
Scan. Mum, Tattle.
Val. 'Sdeath, are not you ashamed?
Ang. D barbarous! I never heard so insolent a piece of
vanitv.—Fy, Mr. Tattle!—I'll swear I could not have
believed it.—Is this your secrecy?
Tat. Gad so, the heat of my story carried me bevond
my discretion, as the heat of the lady's passion hurried
her bcvond her reputation.—But I hope you don't know
whom I mean; for there were a great many ladies raffled.
—Pox on't! now could I bite off my tongue.
"Noted taverns. Pontac's was a celebrated French eating-house in Abchurch
Lane; Locket's a famous ordinary at Charing Cross, So called from Adam Locket
the landlord; the Rummer Tavern was between Whitehall and Charing Cross. It
was kept by Sam. Prior, the uncle of Matthew Prior the poet.