Brass. 'Tis very well, mighty well indeed. Pr'ythee where's thy master? let me try if I can perswade him to be troubled in mind too.
Flip. Not so hasty; he's gone into his closet to prepare himself for a quarrel, I have advis'd him to——with his wife.
Brass. What to do?
Flip. Why to make her stay at home, now she has resolved to do it beforehand. You must know, sirrah, we intend to make a merit of our basset table, and get a good pretence for the merry companions we intend to fill his house with.
Brass. Very nicely spun, truly, thy husband will be a happy man.
Flip. Hold your tongue, you fool you. See here comes your master.
Brass. He's welcome.
Enter Dick.
Dick. My dear Flippanta! how many thanks have I to pay thee?