SCENE I.--_A Room in_ GRIPE'S _House.

_Enter_ Mrs. JOYNER _and_ GRIPE, _the latter in a blue gown and nightcap._

_Mrs. Joyn._ What, not well, your worship! This it is, you will be laying out yourself beyond your strength. You have taken a surfeit of the little gentlewoman, I find. Indeed you should not have been so immoderate in your embraces; your worship is something in years, in truly.

_Gripe._ Graceless, perfidious woman! what makest thou here? art thou not afraid to be used like an informer, since thou hast made me pay thee for betraying me?

_Mrs. Joyn._ Betray your worship! what do you mean? I an informer! I scorn your words!

_Gripe._ Woman, I say again, thou art as treacherous as an informer, and more unreasonable; for he lets us have something for our money before he disturb us.

_Mrs. Joyn._ Your money, I'm sure, was laid out faithfully; and I went away because I would not disturb you.

_Gripe._ I had not grudged you the money I gave you:--but the five hundred pounds! the five hundred pounds! Inconscionable, false woman, the five hundred pounds!--You cheated, trepanned, robbed me, of the five hundred pounds!

_Mrs. Joyn._ I cheat you! I rob you!--well, remember what you say, you shall answer it before Mr. Doublecap and the best of--

_Gripe._ Oh, impudent woman, speak softly!

_Mrs. Joyn._ I will not speak softly; for innocence is loud as well as barefaced. Is this your return, after you have made me a mere drudge to your filthy lusts?

_Gripe._ Speak softly; my sister, daughter, and servants, will hear.

_Mrs. Joyn._ I would have witnesses, to take notice that you blast my good name, which was as white as a tulip, and as sweet as the head of your cane, before you wrought me to the carrying on the work of your fleshly carnal seekings.

_Gripe._ Softly! softly! they are coming in.

_Enter_ Lady FLIPPANT _and_ Mrs. MARTHA.

_L. Flip._ What's the matter, brother?

_Gripe._ Nothing, nothing, sister, only the godly woman is fallen into a fit of zeal against the enormous transgressions of the age. Go! go! you do not love to hear vanity reproved; pray begone!

_Mrs. Joyn._ Pray stay, madam, that you may know--

_Gripe._ [_Aside to_ Mrs. JOYNER.] Hold! hold! here are five guineas for thee,--pray say nothing.--[_Aloud._] Sister, pray begone, I say.--[_Exeunt_ Lady FLIPPANT _and_ Mrs. MARTHA.] Would you prejudice your own reputation to injure mine?

_Mrs. Joyn._ Would you prejudice your own soul to wrong my repute, in truly? [_Pretends to weep._

_Gripe._ Pray have me in excuse. Indeed, I thought you had a share of the five hundred pounds, because you took away my seal-ring; which they made me send, together with a note to my cash-keeper for five hundred pounds. Besides, I thought none but you knew it was my wonted token to send for money by.

_Mrs. Joyn._ 'Tis unlucky I should forget it, and leave it on the table!--But oh the harlotry! did she make that use of it then? 'twas no wonder you did not stay till I came back.

_Gripe._ I stayed till the money released me.

_Mrs. Joyn._ Have they the money, then? five hundred pounds!

_Gripe._ Too certain.

_Mrs. Joyn._ They told me not a word of it; and have you no way to retrieve it?

_Gripe._ Not any.

_Mrs. Joyn._ [_Aside._] I am glad of it.--[_Aloud._] Is there no law but against saints?

_Gripe._ I will not for five hundred pounds publish my transgression myself, lest I should be thought to glory in't: though, I must confess, 'twould tempt a man to conform to public praying and sinning, since 'tis so chargeable to pray and sin in private.

_Mrs. Joyn._ But are you resolved to give off a loser?

_Gripe._ How shall I help it?

_Mrs. Joyn._ Nay, I'll see you shall have what the young jade has, for your money; I'll make 'em use some conscience, however.--Take a man's money for nothing!

_Gripe._ Thou sayest honestly, indeed. And shall I have my pennyworths out of the little gentlewoman for all this?

_Mrs. Joyn._ I'll be engaged body for body for her, and you shall take the forfeiture on me else.

_Gripe._ No, no, I'll rather take your word, Mrs. Joyner.

_Mrs. Joyn._ Go in and dress yourself smug, and leave the rest to me.

_Gripe._ No man breathing would give-off a loser, as she says. [_Exeunt._