Flip. War, horse.
[Aside to Money-trap.
No fine speeches, you'll spoil all.
Mon. Thou art a most incomparable person.
Flip. Nay, it goes rarely; but get you in, and I'll say a little something to my Lady for you, while she's warm.
Mon. But S't, Flippanta, how long do'st think she may hold out?
Flip. Phu, not a Twelvemonth.
Mon. Boo.
Flip. Away, I say.
[Pushing him out.