Mon. And a——perhaps I mayn't be quite so young as I was.
Flip. The devil!
Mon. O, but then consider how 'tis on her side, Flippanta. She ruins me with washing, is always out of humour, ever wanting money, and will never be older.
Flip. That last article, I must confess, is a little hard upon you.
Mon. Ah, Flippanta, didst thou but know the daily provocations I have, thoud'st be the first to excuse my faults. But now I think on't——Thou art none of my friend, thou dost not love me at all; no, not at all.
Flip. And whither is this little reproach going to lead us now?
Mon. You have power over your fair mistress, Flippanta.
Flip. Sir!
Mon. But what then? You hate me.
Flip. I understand you not.