Clar. Ah, merciful heaven! how he swears! You should never accustom yourself to such words as these; indeed, my dear, you shou'd not; your mouth's always full of them.
Gripe. Blood and thunder! Madam——
Clar. Ah, he'll fetch the house down: Do you know you make me tremble for you? Flippanta! who's there? Flippanta!
Gripe. Here's a provoking devil for you!
Enter Flippanta.
Flip. What in the name of Jove's the matter? you raise the neighbourhood.
Clar. Why here's your master in a most violent fuss, and no mortal soul can tell for what.
Gripe. Not tell for what!
Clar. No, my life. I have begged him to tell me his griefs, Flippanta; and then he swears, good Lord! how he does swear.