_Flip._ And thirty; two hundred and thirty: If you mistake the sum, you spoil all. So go put them in a purse, while it's fresh in your head, and send 'em to me with a penitential letter, desiring I'll do you the favour to restore them to her. _Mon._ Two hundred and thirty pounds in a bag! _Flip._ Guineas, I say, guineas. _Mon._ Ay, guineas, that's true. But _Flippanta_, if she don't know they come from me, then I give my money for nothing, you know. _Flip._ Phu, leave that to me, I'll manage the flock for you; I'll make it produce something I'll warrant you. _Mon._ Well, _Flippanta_, 'tis a great sum indeed; but I'll go try what I can do for her. You say, two hundred guineas in a purse? _Flip._ And thirty; if the man's in his senses. _Mon._ And thirty, 'tis true, I always forget that thirty. [_Exit ~Money-trap~._ _Flip._ So, get thee gone, thou art a rare fellow, i'faith. Brass!----it's thee, is't not? _Enter ~Brass~._ _Brass._ It is, Huswife. How go matters? I staid till thy gentleman was gone. Hast done any thing towards our common purse? _Flip._ I think I have; he's going to make us a restitution of two or three hundred pounds. _Brass._ A restitution!----good. _Flip._ A new way, sirrah, to make a lady take a present without putting her to the blush. _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? _Flip._ Do you like her style? _Dick._ The kindest little rogue! there's nothing but she gives me leave to hope. I am the happiest man the world has in its care. _Flip._ Not so happy as you think for neither, perhaps; you have a rival, Sir, I can tell you that. _Dick._ A rival! _Flip._ Yes, and a dangerous one too. _Dick._ Who in the name of terror? _Flip._ A devilish fellow, one Mr. _Amlet_. _Dick._ _Amlet_! I know no such man. _Flip._ You know the man's mother tho'; you met her here, and are in her favour, I can tell you. If he worst you, in your mistress, you shall e'en marry her and disinherit him. _Dick._ If I have no other rival but Mr. _Amlet_, I believe I shan't be disturb'd in my amour. But can't I see _Corinna_?