_Tom._ Dear Mrs. Phillis, you have such a spirit that we shall never be dull in marriage when we come together. But I tell you, you are a fortune, and you have an estate in my hands. [_He pulls out a purse, she eyes it._ _Phil._ What pretence have I to what is in your hands, Mr. Tom? _Tom._ As thus: there are hours, you know, when a lady is neither pleased or displeased; neither sick or well; when she lolls or loiters; when she's without desires--from having more of everything than she knows what to do with. _Phil._ Well, what then? _Tom._ When she has not life enough to keep her bright eyes quite open, to look at her own dear image in the glass. _Phil._ Explain thyself, and don't be so fond of thy own prating. _Tom._ There are also prosperous and good-natured moments: as when a knot or a patch is happily fixed; when the complexion particularly flourishes. _Phil._ Well, what then? I have not patience! _Tom._ Why, then--or on the like occasions--we servants who have skill to know how to time business, see when such a pretty folded thing as this [_Shows a letter._] may be presented, laid, or dropped, as best suits the present humour. And, madam, because it is a long wearisome journey to run through all the several stages of a lady's temper, my master, who is the most reasonable man in the world, presents you this to bear your charges on the road. [_Gives her the purse._ _Phil._ Now you think me a corrupt hussy. _Tom._ O fie, I only think you'll take the letter. _Phil._ Nay, I know you do, but I know my own innocence; I take it for my mistress's sake. _Tom._ I know it, my pretty one, I know it. _Phil._ Yes, I say I do it, because I would not have my mistress deluded by one who gives no proof of his passion; but I'll talk more of tips as you see me on my way home. No, Tom, I assure thee, I take this trash of thy master's, not for the value of the thing, but as it convinces me he has a true respect for my mistress. I remember a verse to the purpose-- They may be false who languish and complain, But they who part with money never feign. [_Exeunt._ SCENE II. BEVIL, JUN.'S _Lodgings._ BEVIL, JUN., _reading._