Sir Sim. She threw down my ink-glass, and ran away into the next room; I followed her, and, in revenge, threw her down upon the bed:—but, in short, all that I could do to her would not make her squeak.
Mrs. Joyn. She was out of breath, man, she was out of breath.
Sir Sim. Ah, Mrs. Joyner, say no more, say no more of that!
Re-enter Lady Flippant.
L. Flip. You rude, unmannerly rascal!
Mrs. Joyn. You see she complains now.
Sir Sim. I know why, Mrs. Joyner, I know why. [Aside to Mrs. Joyner.
L. Flip. I'll have you turned out of the house; you are not fit for my brother's service.
Sir Sim. Not for yours, you mean, madam. [Aside.