Flaunt. Will you swear to be so?
Sir Tim. Ay, by Fortune, I will.
Flaunt. Come, what will you give me then to be Friends? for you won Money last Night.
Sir Tim. Ay, that’s it that appeases her highest Storms—here, my
Jewel, here’s a hundred Guineas to buy thee fine things.
Flaunt. Yes, great store of fine things indeed, with this pitiful Sum; let me feel in your Pockets, and see if you have no more. [She feels in his Pockets.
Sir Tim. So, ‘twas well I laid by the rest, my Peace had not been
Made under every Rag on’t else; and what I was painfully cheating for
All this Night, would have been laid out at the Mercers and Lacemans
in half an Hour.
—Well, are you satisfy’d I have no more?
Flaunt. Have you sunk none indeed and indeed, my Timmy?
Sir Tim. No, I need not, you sink mine fast enough, I thank ye. [Aside.
Flaunt. Well, get your self ready to go abroad with me.
[Exit Flaunt.