Brass. Not she alone neither, therefore don't let her grow vain upon't; for I have three or four affairs of that kind going at this time.
Flip. Well, go carry this epistle from miss to thy master; and when thou com'st back, I'll tell thee thy business.
Brass. I'll know it before I go, if you please.
Flip. Thy master waits for an answer.
Brass. I'd rather he should wait than I.
Flip. Why then, in short, Araminta's husband is in love with my lady.
Brass. Very well, child, we have a Rowland for her Oliver: Thy lady's husband is in love with Araminta.
Flip. Who told you that, sirrah?
Brass. 'Tis a negociation I am charged with, Pert. Did not I tell thee I did business for half the town? I have managed Master Gripe's little affairs for him these ten years, you slut you.
Flip. Hark thee, Brass, the game's in our hands, if we can but play the cards.