Brass. I had rather the devil had, phu——flown away with you quick, than to see you so much in love, as I perceive you are, since——
Gripe. Since what?——ho.
Brass. Araminta, Sir.
Gripe. Dead?
Brass. No.
Gripe. How then?
Brass. Worse.
Gripe. Out with't.
Brass. Broke.
Gripe. Broke!