_Clar._ Look you, my dear, malice apart, pay Mrs. _Amlet_ her money, and I'll forgive you the wrong you intended my bed with _Araminta_: Am not I a good wife now? _Gripe._ I burst with rage, and will get rid of this noose, tho' I tuck myself up in another. _Mon._ Nay, pray, e'en tuck me up with you. [_Exit ~Mon.~ and ~Gripe.~_ _Clar. & Aram._ B'ye, dearies. _Enter ~Dick~._ _Cor._ Look, look, _Flippanta_, here's the colonel come at last. _Dick._ Ladies, I ask your pardon, I have stay'd so long, but---- _Aml._ Ah rogue's face, have I got thee, old Good-for-nought? sirrah, sirrah, do you think to amuse me with your marriages, and your great fortunes? Thou hast play'd me a rare prank by my conscience. Why you ungracious rascal, what do you think will be the end of all this? Now Heaven forgive me, but I have a great mind to hang thee for't. _Cor._ She talks to him very familiarly, _Flippanta_. _Flip._ So methinks, by my faith. _Brass._ Now the rogue's star is making an end of him. [_Aside._ _Dick._ What shall I do with her? [_Aside._ _Aml._ Do but look at him, my dames, he has the countenance of a cherubim, but he's a rogue in his heart. _Clar._ What is the meaning of all this, Mrs. _Amlet_? _Aml._ The meaning, good lack! Why this all-to-be powder'd rascal here, is my son, an't please you; ha, graceless? Now I'll make you own your mother, vermine. _Clar._ What, the colonel your son? _Aml._ 'Tis _Dick_, Madam, that rogue _Dick_, I have so often told you of, with tears trickling down my old cheeks. _Aram._ The woman's mad, it can never be. _Aml._ Speak, rogue, am I not thy mother, ha? Did I not bring thee forth? say then. _Dick._ What will you have me say? you had a mind to ruin me, and you have done't; wou'd you do any more? _Clar._ Then, sir, you are son to good Mrs. _Amlet_? _Aram._ And have had the assurance to put upon us all this while? _Flip._ And the confidence to think of marrying _Corinna_. _Brass._ And the impudence to hire me for your servant, who am as well born as yourself. _Clar._ Indeed I think he shou'd be corrected. _Aram._ Indeed I think he deserves to be cudgell'd. _Flip._ Indeed I think he might be pumpt. _Brass._ Indeed I think he will be hang'd. _Aml._ Good lack-a-day, good lack-a-day! there's no need to be so smart upon him neither: if he is not a gentleman, he's a gentleman's fellow. Come hither, _Dick_, they shan't run thee down neither: cock up thy hat, _Dick_, and tell them tho' Mrs. _Amlet_ is thy mother, she can make thee amends, with ten thousand good pounds to buy thee some lands, and build thee a house in the midst on't. _Omnes._ How! _Clar._ Ten thousand pounds, Mrs. _Amlet_? _Aml._ Yes, forsooth; tho' I shou'd lose the hundred, you pawn'd your necklace for. Tell 'em that, _Dick_.