Enter Tricksy, and Mrs Brainsick, with a note for each.
Wood. [Aside.] Both together! either of them, apart, had been my business: but I shall never play well at this three-hand game.
Limb. O Pug, how have you been passing your time?
063 Trick. I have been looking over the last present of orange gloves you made me; and methinks I do not like the scent.—O Lord, Mr Woodall, did you bring those you wear from Paris?
Wood. Mine are Roman, madam.
Trick. The scent I love, of all the world. Pray let me see them.
Mrs Brain. Nay, not both, good Mrs Tricksy; for I love that scent as well as you.
Wood. [Pulling them off, and giving each one.] I shall find two dozen more of women's gloves among my trifles, if you please to accept them, ladies.
Trick. Look to it; we shall expect them.—Now to put in my billet-doux!
Mrs Brain. So, now, I have the opportunity to thrust in my note.