_Cor._ And not a word of the pudding to my mother-in-law. _Flip._ Enough. _Cor._ When we come to love one another to the purpose, she shall know all. _Flip._ Ay, then 'twill be time. _Cor._ But remember 'tis you make me do all this now, so if any mischief comes on't, 'tis you must answer for't. _Flip._ I'll be your security. _Cor._ I'm young, and know nothing of the matter; but you have experience, so it's your business to conduct me safe. _Flip._ Poor innocence! _Cor._ But tell me in serious sadness, _Flippanta_, does he love me with the very soul of him? _Flip._ I have told you so an hundred times, and yet you are not satisfied. _Cor._ But, methinks, I'd fain have him tell me so himself. _Flip._ Have patience, and it shall be done. _Cor._ Why, patience is a virtue; that we must all confess----But I fancy, the sooner it's done the better, _Flippanta_. _Enter ~Jessamin~._ _Jess._ Madam, yonder's your Geography-Master waiting for you. [_Exit._ _Cor._ Ah! how I am tir'd with these old fumbling fellows, _Flippanta_. _Flip._ Well, don't let 'em break your heart, you shall be rid of them all ere long. _Cor._ Nay, 'tis not the study I'm so weary of, _Flippanta_, 'tis the odious thing that teaches me. Were the Colonel my master, I fancy I could take pleasure in learning every thing he could shew me. _Flip._ And he can shew you a great deal, I can tell you that. But get you gone in, here's somebody coming, we must not be seen together. _Cor._ I will, I will, I will----O the dear Colonel. [_Running off._ _Enter Mrs. ~Amlet~._ _Flip._ O ho, it's Mrs. _Amlet_----What brings you so soon to us again, Mrs. _Amlet_? _Aml._ Ah! my dear Mrs. _Flippanta_, I'm in a furious fright. _Flip._ Why, what's come to you? _Aml._ Ah! Mercy on us all----Madam's diamond necklace---- _Flip._ What of that? _Aml._ Are you sure you left it at my house? _Flip._ Sure I left it! a very pretty question truly! _Aml._ Nay, don't be angry; say nothing to madam of it, I beseech you: It will be found again, if it be heaven's good will. At least 'tis I must bear the loss on't. 'Tis my rogue of a son has laid his birdlime fingers on't. _Flip._ Your son, Mrs. _Amlet_! Do you breed your children up to such tricks as these then? _Aml._ What shall I say to you, Mrs. _Flippanta_? Can I help it? He has been a rogue from his cradle, _Dick_ has. But he has his deserts too. And now it comes in my head, mayhap he may have no ill design in this neither. _Flip._ No ill design, woman! He's a pretty fellow if he can steal a diamond necklace with a good one. _Aml._ You don't know him, Mrs. _Flippanta_, so well as I that bore him. _Dick_'s a rogue, 'tis true, but----Mum---- _Flip._ What does the woman mean?