Scrub. Secrets, O lud!——But I'll say no more—Come, sit down, we'll make an end of our tankard:—Here——
Arch. With all my heart; who knows but you and I may come to be better acquainted, eh?——Here's your ladies' health—You have three, I think, and to be sure there must be secrets among them?
Scrub. Secrets! ah, friend, friend! I wish I had a friend.
Arch. Am not I your friend? Come, you and I will be sworn brothers.
Scrub. Shall we?
Arch. From this minute—Give me a kiss——and now, brother Scrub——
Scrub. And now, brother Martin, I will tell you a secret, that will make your hair stand on end.—You must know, that I am consumedly in love.
Arch. That's a terrible secret, that's the truth on't.
Scrub. That jade, Gipsey, that was with us just now in the cellar, is the arrantest whore that ever wore a petticoat, and I'm dying for love of her.
Arch. Ha! ha! ha!—are you in love with her person or her virtue, brother Scrub?