_Flaunt_. She! She’s an impudent confounded Lyar--and because she wou’d have your worshipful Custom--scandaliz’d me, to breed a difference between us. Sir _Tim_. Ay, if you could make me believe that indeed, when she knew Me not, nor ever saw me all the Days of her Life before. _Flaunt_. I know that, Simpleton; but when I went to enquire for you by your Name, and told her my Bus’ness, our Amours are not kept so secret, nor was she so dull, as not to understand how matters went between us. Sir _Tim_. Now though I know this to be a damn’d Lye, yet the Devil has assisted her to make it look so like Truth, that I cannot in Honour but forgive her. _Flaunt_. Forgive me!--Who shall forgive you your debauch’d Whoring and Drinking?--marry, ye had need so, you are such a Ruffler, at least if y’are every where as you are at home with me--No, Sirrah, I’ll never bed with you more; here I live sneaking without a Coach, or any thing to appear withal; when even those that were scandalous two Ages ago, can be seen in _Hide-Park_ in their fine Chariots, as if they had purchas’d it with a Maidenhead; whilst I, who keep myself intirely for you, can get nothing but the Fragments of your Debauches--I’ll be damn’d before I’ll endure it. Sir _Tim_. Just as the Baud said; yet I am mollify’d--nay, dear _Betty_, forgive me, and I’ll be very good for the future. _Flaunt_. Will you swear to be so? Sir _Tim_. Ay, by Fortune, I will. _Flaunt_. Come, what will you give me then to be Friends? for you won Money last Night. Sir _Tim_. Ay, that’s it that appeases her highest Storms--here, my Jewel, here’s a hundred Guineas to buy thee fine things. _Flaunt_. Yes, great store of fine things indeed, with this pitiful Sum; let me feel in your Pockets, and see if you have no more. [_She feels in his Pockets_. Sir _Tim_. So, ‘twas well I laid by the rest, my Peace had not been Made under every Rag on’t else; and what I was painfully cheating for All this Night, would have been laid out at the Mercers and Lacemans in half an Hour. --Well, are you satisfy’d I have no more? _Flaunt_. Have you sunk none indeed and indeed, my _Timmy?_ Sir _Tim_. No, I need not, you sink mine fast enough, I thank ye. [_Aside_. _Flaunt_. Well, get your self ready to go abroad with me. [_Exit_ Flaunt. Sir _Tim_. I have other Matters in hand--now have I four hundred Guineas in Bank, which I won last Night of _Bellmour_, which I’ll make use of to debauch his Sister, with whom I’m damnably in love, and long for the return of my two Setting-dogs, to bring me News of the Game. _Enter_ Sham _and_ Sharp. Oh, are you come? _Sham_. Ay, Sir, with News worth the hearing; I have been diligent, Sir, and got my self acquainted with the old Steward of the Family, an avaricious _Judas_, that will betray for Gold.