Roxana, The Fortunate Mistress by Daniel Defoe

As soon as they were gone I ran up to Amy, and gave vent to my passions by telling her the whole story and letting her see what mischiefs one false step of hers had like, unluckily, to have involved us all in, more perhaps than we could ever have lived to get through. Amy was sensible of it enough, and was just giving her wrath a vent another way, viz. by calling the poor girl all the damned jades and fools (and sometimes worse names) that she could think of; in the middle of which up comes my honest, good Quaker and puts an end to our discourse. The Quaker came in smiling (for she was always soberly cheerful). "Well," says she, "thou art delivered at last, I come to joy thee of it; I perceived thou wert tired grievously of thy visitors."

-"Indeed," says I, "so I was; that foolish young girl held us all in a Canterbury story, I thought she would never have done with it." "Why, truly I thought she was very careful to let thee know she was but a cook-maid." "Ay," says I, "and at a gaming-house, or gaming-ordinary, and at t'other end of the town too; all which (by the way) she might know, would add very little to her good name among us citizens."