Gripe. Why that's true now.
Brass. I'm wise you see, Sir.
Gripe. Thou art; and I'm but a young lover: But what shall we do then?
Brass. Why I'm thinking, that if you give me the note, do you see; and that I promise to give you an account of it——
Gripe. Ay, but look you, Brass——
Brass. But look you!—--Why what, d'ye think I'm a pickpocket? D'ye think I intend to run away with your note? your paltry note.
Gripe. I don't say so——I say only that in case——
Brass. Case, Sir, there is no case but the case I have put you; and since you heap cases upon cases, where there is but three hundred rascally pounds in the case——I'll go and call a coach.
Gripe. Pr'ythee don't be so testy; come, no more words, follow me to my closet, and I'll give thee the money.
Brass. A terrible effort you make indeed; you are so much in love, your wits are all upon the wing, just a going; and for three hundred pounds you put a stop to their flight: Sir, your wits are worth that, or your wits are worth nothing. Come away.