Gripe. Well, say no more, thou shalt be satisfy'd. [Exeunt.
Enter Dick.
Dick. S't——Brass! S't——
Re-enter Brass.
Brass. Well, Sir!
Dick. 'Tis not well, Sir, 'tis very ill, Sir; we shall be all blown up.
Brass. What, with pride and plenty?
Dick. No, Sir, with an officious slut that will spoil all. In short, Flippanta has been telling her mistress and Araminta of my passion for the young gentlewoman; and truly to oblige me (supposed no ill match by the bye) they are resolv'd to propose it immediately to her father.
Brass. That's the devil! we shall come to papers and parchments, jointures and settlements, relations meet on both sides; that's the devil.