[_Aside._ _Dick._ Hark----somebody comes. [_~Brass~ peeping in._ _Brass._ Gar there, the enemy----no, hold y'are safe, 'tis _Flippanta_. _Enter ~Flippanta~._ _Flip._ Come, have you agreed the matter? If not, you must end it another time, for your father's in motion, so pray kiss and part. _Cor._ That's sweet and sour. [_They kiss._] Adieu t'ye, Sir. [_Exit ~Dick~ and ~Cor~._ _Enter ~Clarissa~._ _Clar._ Have you told him I'm at home, _Flippanta_? _Flip._ Yes, Madam. _Clar._ And that I'll see him? _Flip._ Yes, that too: But here's news for you; I have just now receiv'd the restitution. _Clar._ That's killing pleasure: and how much has he restor'd me? _Flip._ Two hundred and thirty. _Clar._ Wretched rogue! but retreat, your Master's coming to quarrel. _Flip._ I'll be within call, if things run high. [_Ex. ~Flip~._ _Enter ~Gripe~._ _Gripe._ O ho!----are you there, i'faith? Madam, your humble servant, I'm very glad to see you at home. I thought I should never have had that honour again. _Clar._ Good-morrow, my dear, how d'ye do? _Flippanta_ says you are out of humour, and that you have a mind to quarrel with me: Is it true? ha!----I have a terrible pain in my head, I give you notice on't beforehand. _Gripe._ And how the pox shou'd it be otherwise? It's a wonder you are not dead [_~as a' wou'd you were~, Aside._] with the life you lead. Are you not ashamed? And do you not blush to---- _Clar._ My dear child, you crack my brain; soften the harshness of your voice: say what thou wou't, but let it be in an agreeable tone---- _Gripe._ Tone, Madam, don't tell me of a tone---- _Clar._ O----if you will quarrel, do it with temperance; let it be all in cool blood, even and smooth, as if you were not moved with what you said; and then I'll hear you as if I were not mov'd with it neither. _Gripe._ Had ever man such need of patience? Madam, Madam, I must tell you, Madam---- _Clar._ Another key, or I'll walk off. _Gripe._ Don't provoke me. _Clar._ Shall you be long, my dear, in your remonstrances? _Gripe._ Yes, Madam, and very long. _Clar._ If you would quarrel _en abrêgé_, I shou'd have a world of obligation to you. _Gripe._ What I have to say, forsooth, is not to be expressed _en abrêgé_, my complaints are too numerous. _Clar._ Complaints! of what my dear? have I ever given you subject of complaint, my life? _Gripe._ O Pox! my dear and my life! I desire none of your _tendres_. _Clar._ How! find fault with my kindness, and my expressions of affection and respect! the world will guess by this what the rest of your complaints may be. I must tell you, I am scandaliz'd at your procedure.