Chapter XXII: Act V: SCENE I. Sir Cautious his House

_Enter_ Bellmour _alone, sad_.

_Bel_. The Night is come, oh my _Leticia_! The longing Bridegroom hastens to his Bed; Whilst she with all the languishment of Love, And sad Despair, casts her fair Eyes on me, Which silently implore, I would deliver her. But how! ay, there’s the Question--hah-- [_Pausing_. I’ll get my self hid in her Bed-chamber-- And something I will do--may serve us yet-- If all my Arts should fail--I’ll have recourse [_Draws a dagger_. To this--and bear _Leticia_ off by force. --But see she comes--

_Enter Lady_ Fulbank, _Sir_ Cautious, _Sir_ Feeble,
Leticia, Bearjest, Noisey, Gayman. _Exit_ Bellmour.

Sir _Feeb_. Lights there, _Ralph_. And my Lady’s Coach there--

[Bearjest _goes to_ Gayman.

_Bea_. Well, Sir, remember you have promised to grant me my diabolical Request, in shewing me the Devil--

_Gay_. I will not fail you, Sir.

L. _Ful_. Madam, your Servant; I hope you’ll see no more Ghosts, Sir _Feeble_.

Sir _Feeb_. No more of that, I beseech you, Madam: Prithee, Sir _Cautious_, take away your Wife--Madam, your Servant-- [_All go out after the Light_. --Come, _Lette, Lette_; hasten, Rogue, hasten to thy Chamber; away, here be the young Wenches coming-- [_Puts her out, he goes out_.

_Enter_ Diana, _puts on her Hood and Scarf_.

_Dia_. So--they are gone to Bed; and now for _Bredwel_ --the Coach waits, and I’ll take this opportunity.

_Father, farewell--if you dislike my course,
Blame the old rigid Customs of your Force_.

[_Goes out_.

SCENE II. _A Bed-chamber_.

_Enter Sir_ Feeble, Leticia, _and_ Phillis.

_Let_. Ah, _Phillis_! I am fainting with my Fears, Hast thou no comfort for me?

[_He undresses to his Gown_.

Sir _Feeb_. Why, what art doing there--fiddle fadling--adod, you young Wenches are so loth to come to--but when your hand’s in, you have no mercy upon us poor Husbands.

_Let_. Why do you talk so, Sir?

Sir _Feeb_. Was it anger’d at the Fool’s Prattle? tum a-me, tum a-me, I’ll undress it, effags, I will--Roguy.

_Let_. You are so wanton, Sir, you make me blush--I will not go to bed, unless you’ll promise me--

Sir _Feeb_. No bargaining, my little Hussey--what, you’ll tie my hands behind me, will you? [_She goes to the Table_.

_Let_.--What shall I do?--assist me, gentle Maid, Thy Eyes methinks put on a little hope.

_Phil_. Take Courage, Madam--you guess right--be confident.

Sir _Feeb_. No whispering, Gentlewoman--and putting Tricks into her head; that shall not cheat me of another Night--Look on that silly little round Chitty-face--look on those smiling roguish loving Eyes there--look--look how they laugh, twire, and tempt--he, Rogue--I’ll buss ‘em there, and here, and every where--ods bods--away, this is fooling and spoiling of a Man’s Stomach, with a bit here, and a bit there--to Bed--to Bed--

[_As she is at the Toilet, he looks over her shoulder,
and sees her Face in the Glass_.

_Let_. Go you first, Sir, I will but stay to say my Prayers, which are that Heaven wou’d deliver me. [_Aside_.

Sir _Feeb_. Say thy Prayers!--What, art thou mad! Prayers upon thy Wedding-night! a short Thanksgiving or so--but Prayers quoth a--’Sbobs, you’ll have time enough for that, I doubt--

_Le_. I am asham’d to undress before you, Sir; go to Bed--

Sir _Feeb_. What, was it asham’d to shew its little white Foots, and its little round Bubbies--well, I’ll go, I’ll go--I cannot think on’t, no I cannot--

[_Going towards the Bed_, Bellmour _comes forth from between
the Curtains, his Coat off, his Shirt bloody, a Dagger in his
hand, and his Disguise off_.

_Bel_. Stand--

Sir _Feeb_. Ah--

_Let_. and _Phil_. [_squeak_]--Oh, Heavens! --why, is it _Bellmour_? [_Aside to_ Phil.

_Bel_. Go not to Bed, I guard this sacred Place, And the Adulterer dies that enters here.

Sir _Feeb_. Oh--why do I shake?--sure I’m a Man, what art thou?

_Bel_. I am the wrong’d, the lost and murder’d _Bellmour_.

Sir _Feeb_. O Lord! it is the same I saw last night--Oh!--hold thy dread Vengeance--pity me, and hear me--Oh! a Parson--a Parson--what shall I do--Oh! where shall I hide my self?

_Bel_. I’th’ utmost Borders of the Earth I’ll find thee-- Seas shall not hide thee, nor vast Mountains guard thee: Even in the depth of Hell I’ll find thee out, And lash thy filthy and adulterous Soul.

Sir _Feeb_. Oh! I am dead, I’m dead; will no Repentence save me? ‘twas that young Eye that tempted me to sin; Oh!--

_Bel_. See, fair Seducer, what thou’st made me do; Look on this bleeding Wound, it reach’d my Heart, To pluck my dear tormenting Image thence, When News arriv’d that thou hadst broke thy Vow.

Sir _Feeb_. Oh Lord! oh! I’m glad he’s dead though.

_Let_. Oh, hide that fatal Wound, my tender Heart faints with a Sight so horrid! [_Seems to Weep_.

Sir _Feeb_. So, she’ll clear her self, and leave me in the Devil’s Clutches.

_Bel_. You’ve both offended Heaven, and must repent or die.

Sir _Feeb_. Ah,--I do confess I was an old Fool,--bewitcht with Beauty, besotted with Love, and do repent most heartily.

_Bel_. No, you had rather yet go on in Sin: Thou wou’dst live on, and be a baffled Cuckold.

Sir _Feeb_. Oh, not for the World, Sir! I am convinc’d and mortifi’d.

_Bel_. Maintain her fine, undo thy Peace to please her, and still be Cuckol’d on,--believe her,--trust her, and be Cuckol’d still.

Sir _Feeb_. I see my Folly--and my Age’s Dotage--and find the Devil was in me--yet spare my Age--ah! spare me to repent.

_Bel_. If thou repent’st, renounce her, fly her sight;-- Shun her bewitching Charms, as thou wou’dst Hell, Those dark eternal Mansions of the dead-- Whither I must descend.

Sir _Feeb_. Oh--wou’d he were gone!--

_Bel_. Fly--be gone--depart, vanish for ever from her to some more safe and innocent Apartment.

Sir _Feeb_. Oh, that’s very hard!--

[_He goes back trembling_, Bellmour _follows in with
his Dagger up; both go out_.

_Let_. Blest be this kind Release, and yet methinks it grieves me to consider how the poor old Man is frighted.

[Bellmour _re-enters, puts on his Coat_.

_Bel_.--He’s gone, and lock’d himself into his Chamber-- And now, my dear _Leticia_, let us fly--

_Despair till now did my wild Heart invade,
But pitying Love has the rough Storm allay’d_.

[_Exeunt_.

SCENE III. _Sir_ Cautious _his Garden_.

_Enter two Porters and_ Rag, _bearing_ Gayman _in a Chest;
set it down, he comes forth with a Dark-lanthorn_.

_Gay_. Set down the Chest behind yon hedge of Roses--and then put on those Shapes I have appointed you--and be sure you well-favour’dly bang both _Bearjest_ and _Noisey_, since they have a mind to see the Devil.

_Rag_. Oh, Sir, leave ‘em to us for that; and if we do not play the Devil with ‘em, we deserve they shou’d beat us. But, Sir, we are in Sir _Cautious_ his Garden, will he not sue us for a Trespass?

_Gay_. I’ll bear you out; be ready at my Call.

[_Exeunt_.

--Let me see--I have got no ready stuff to banter with--but no matter, any Gibberish will serve the Fools--’tis now about the hour of Ten--but Twelve is my appointed lucky Minute, when all the Blessings that my Soul could wish, shall be resign’d to me.

_Enter_ Bredwel.

--Hah! who’s there? _Bredwel_?

_Bred_. Oh, are you come, Sir--and can you be so kind to a poor Youth, to favour his Designs, and bless his Days?

_Gay_. Yes, I am ready here with all my Devils, both to secure you your Mistress, and to cudgel your Captain and Squire, for abusing me behind my Back so basely.

_Bred_. ‘Twas most unmanly, Sir, and they deserve it--I wonder that they come not.

_Gay_. How durst you trust her with him?

_Bred_. Because ‘tis dangerous to steal a City-Heiress, and let the Theft be his--so the dear Maid be mine--Hark--sure they come--

_Enter_ Bearjest, _runs against_ Bredwel.

--Who’s there? Mr. _Bearjest_?

_Bea_. Who’s that? _Ned_? Well, I have brought my Mistress, hast thou got a Parson ready, and a License?

_Bred_. Ay, ay, but where’s the Lady?

_Bea_. In the Coach, with the Captain at the Gate. I came before, to see if the Coast be clear.

_Bred_. Ay, Sir; but what shall we do? here’s Mr. _Gayman_ come on purpose to shew you the Devil, as you desir’d.

_Bea_. Sho! a Pox of the Devil, Man--I can’t attend to speak with him now.

_Gay_. How, Sir! D’ye think my Devil of so little Quality, to suffer an Affront unrevenged?

_Bea_. Sir, I cry his Devilship’s Pardon: I did not know his Quality. I protest, Sir, I love and honour him, but I am now just going to be married, Sir; and when that Ceremony’s past, I’m ready to go to the Devil as soon as you please.

_Gay_. I have told him your Desire of seeing him, and shou’d you baffle him?

_Bea_. Who, I, Sir! Pray, let his Worship know, I shall be proud of the Honour of his Acquaintance; but, Sir, my Mistress and the Parson wait in _Ned’s_ Chamber.

_Gay_. If all the World wait, Sir, the Prince of Hell will stay for no Man.

_Bred_. Oh, Sir, rather than the Prince of the Infernals shall be affronted, I’ll conduct the Lady up, and entertain her till you come, Sir.

_Bea_. Nay, I have a great mind to kiss his--Paw, Sir; but I cou’d wish you’d shew him me by day-light, Sir.

_Gay_. The Prince of Darkness does abhor the Light. But, Sir, I will for once allow your Friend the Captain to keep you company.

_Enter_ Noisey _and_ Diana.

_Bea_. I’m much oblig’d to you, Sir; oh, Captain-- [_Talks to him_.

_Bred_. Haste, Dear; the Parson waits, To finish what the Powers design’d above.

_Dia_. Sure nothing is so bold as Maids in Love! [_They go out_.

_Noi_. Psho! he conjure--he can flie as soon.

_Gay_. Gentlemen, you must be sure to confine your selves to this Circle, and have a care you neither swear, nor pray.

_Bea_. Pray, Sir! I dare say neither of us were ever that way gifted.

A horrid Noise.

_Gay_.

_Cease your Horror, cease your Haste.
And calmly as I saw you last,
Appear! Appear!
By thy Pearls and Diamond Rocks,
By thy heavy Money-Box,
By thy shining Petticoat,
That hid thy cloven Feet from Note;
By the Veil that hid thy Face,
Which else had frighten’d humane Race_:
[Soft Musick ceases.
_Appear, that I thy Love may see,
Appear, kind Fiends, appear to me_.

A Pox of these Rascals, why come they not?

_Four enter from the four corners of the Stage, to Musick
that plays; they dance, and in the Dance, dance round ‘em,
and kick, pinch, and beat ‘em_.

_Bea_. Oh, enough, enough! Good Sir, lay ‘em, and I’ll pay the Musick--

_Gay_. I wonder at it--these Spirits are in their Nature kind, and peaceable--but you have basely injur’d some body--confess, and they will be satisfied--

_Bea_. Oh, good Sir, take your _Cerberuses_ off--I do confess, the Captain here, and I have violated your Fame.

_Noi_. Abus’d you,--and traduc’d you,--and thus we beg your pardon--

_Gay_. Abus’d me! ‘Tis more than I know, Gentlemen.

_Bea_. But it seems your Friend the Devil does.

_Gay_. By this time _Bredwel’s_ married. --Great _Pantamogan_, hold, for I am satisfied, [_Ex. Devils_. And thus undo my Charm-- [_Takes away the Circle, they run out_. So, the Fools are going, and now to _Julia’s_ Arms.

[_Going_.

SCENE IV. _Lady_ Fulbank’s _Anti-chamber_.

_She discover’d undrest at her Glass; Sir_ Cautious _undrest_.

L. _Ful_. But why to Night? indeed you’re wondrous kind methinks.

Sir _Cau_. Why, I don’t know--a Wedding is a sort of an Alarm to Love; it calls up every Man’s courage.

L. _Ful_. Ay, but will it come when ‘tis call’d?

Sir _Cau_. I doubt you’ll find it to my Grief-- [_Aside_. --But I think ‘tis all one to thee, thou car’st not for my Complement; no, thou’dst rather have a young Fellow.

L. _Ful_. I am not us’d to flatter much; if forty Years were taken from your Age, ‘twou’d render you something more agreeable to my Bed, I must confess.

Sir _Cau_. Ay, ay, no doubt on’t.

L. _Ful_. Yet you may take my word without an Oath, Were you as old as Time, and I were young and gay As _April_ Flowers, which all are fond to gather; My Beauties all should wither in the Shade, E’er I’d be worn in a dishonest Bosom.

Sir _Cau_. Ay, but you’re wondrous free methinks, sometimes, which gives shreud suspicions.

L. _Ful_. What, because I cannot simper, look demure, and justify my Honour, when none questions it? --Cry fie, and out upon the naughty Women, Because they please themselves--and so wou’d I.

Sir _Cau_. How, wou’d, what cuckold me?

L. _Ful_. Yes, if it pleas’d me better than Vertue, Sir. But I’ll not change my Freedom and my Humour, To purchase the dull Fame of being honest.

Sir _Cau_. Ay, but the World, the World--

L. _Ful_. I value not the Censures of the Croud.

Sir _Cau_. But I am old.

L. _Ful_. That’s your fault, Sir, not mine.

Sir _Cau_. But being so, if I shou’d be good-natur’d, and give thee leave to love discreetly--

L. _Ful_. I’d do’t without your leave, Sir.

Sir _Cau_. Do’t--what, cuckold me?

L. _Ful_. No, love discreetly, Sir, love as I ought, love honestly.

Sir _Cau_. What, in love with any body, but your own Husband?

L. _Ful_. Yes.

Sir _Cau_. Yes, quoth a--is that your loving as you ought?

L. _Ful_. We cannot help our Inclinations, Sir, No more than Time, or Light from coming on-- But I can keep my Virtue, Sir, intire.

Sir _Cau_. What, I’ll warrant, this is your first Love, _Gayman_?

L. _Ful_. I’ll not deny that Truth, though even to you.

Sir _Cau_. Why, in consideration of my Age, and your Youth, I’d bear a Conscience--provided you do things wisely.

L. _Ful_. Do what thing, Sir?

Sir _Cau_. You know what I mean--

L. _Ful_. Hah--I hope you wou’d not be a Cuckold, Sir.

Sir _Cau_. Why--truly in a civil way--or so.

L. _Ful_. There is but one way, Sir, to make me hate you; And that wou’d be tame suffering.

Sir _Cau_. Nay, and she be thereabouts, there’s no discovering.

L. _Ful_. But leave this fond discourse, and, if you must, Let us to Bed.

Sir _Cau_. Ay, ay, I did but try your Virtue, mun--dost think I was in earnest?

_Enter Servant_.

_Serv_. Sir, here’s a Chest directed to your Worship.

Sir _Cau_. Hum, ‘tis _Wasteall_--now does my heart fail me--A Chest say you--to me--so late;--I’ll warrant it comes from Sir _Nicholas Smuggle_--some prohibited Goods that he has stoln the Custom of, and cheated his Majesty--Well, he’s an honest Man, bring it in--

[_Exit Servant_.

L. _Ful_. What, into my Apartment, Sir, a nasty Chest!

Sir _Cau_. By all means--for if the Searchers come, they’ll never be so uncivil to ransack thy Lodgings; and we are bound in Christian Charity to do for one another--Some rich Commodities, I am sure--and some fine Knick-knack will fall to thy share, I’ll warrant thee --Pox on him for a young Rogue, how punctual he is! [_Aside_.

_Enter with the Chest_.

--Go, my Dear, go to Bed--I’ll send Sir _Nicholas_ a Receit for the Chest, and be with thee presently--

[_Ex. severally_.

[Gayman _peeps out of the Chest, and looks round him wondring_.

_Gay_. Hah, where am I? By Heaven, my last Night’s Vision--’Tis that inchanted Room, and yonder’s the Alcove! Sure ‘twas indeed some Witch, who knowing of my Infidelity--has by Inchantment brought me hither-- ’.is so--I am betray’d--[_Pauses_. Hah! or was it _Julia_, that last night gave me that lone Opportunity?--but hark, I hear some coming-- [_Shuts himself in_.

_Enter Sir_ Cautious.

Sir _Cau_. [_Lifting up the Chest-lid_.] So, you are come, I see--
[_Goes, and locks the door_.

_Gay_. Hah--he here! nay then, I was deceiv’d, and it was _Julia_ that last night gave me the dear Assignation. [_Aside_.

[_Sir_ Cautious _peeps into the Bed-chamber_.

L. _Ful_. [_Within_.] Come, Sir _Cautious_, I shall fall asleep, and then you’ll waken me.

Sir _Cau_. Ay, my Dear, I’m coming--she’s in Bed--I’ll go put out the Candle, and then--

_Gay_. Ay, I’ll warrant you for my part--

Sir _Cau_. Ay, but you may over-act your part, and spoil all--But, Sir, I hope you’ll use a Christian Conscience in this business.

_Gay_. Oh, doubt not, Sir, but I shall do you Reason.

Sir _Cau_. Ay, Sir, but--

_Gay_. Good Sir, no more Cautions; you, unlike a fair Gamester, will rook me out of half my Night--I am impatient--

Sir _Cau_. Good Lord, are you so hasty? if I please, you shan’t go at all.

_Gay_. With all my soul, Sir; pay me three hundred Pound, Sir--

Sir _Cau_. Lord, Sir, you mistake my candid meaning still. I am content to be a Cuckold, Sir--but I wou’d have things done decently, d’ye mind me?

_Gay_. As decently as a Cuckold can be made, Sir.--But no more disputes, I pray, Sir.

Sir _Cau_. I’m gone--I’m gone--but harkye, Sir, you’ll rise before day?
[_Going out, returns_.

_Gay_. Yet again--

Sir _Cau_. I vanish, Sir--but harkye--you’ll not speak a word, but let her think ‘tis I?

_Gay_. Be gone, I say, Sir-- [_He runs out_. I am convinc’d last night I was with _Julia_. Oh Sot, insensible and dull!

_Enter softly Sir_ Cautious.

Sir _Cau_. So, the Candle’s out--give me your hand.

[_Leads him softly in_.

SCENE V. _Changes to a Bed-chamber_.

_Lady_ Fulbank _suppos’d in Bed. Enter Sir_ Cautious
_and_ Gayman _by dark_.

Sir _Cau_. Where are you, my Dear? [_Leads him to the bed_.

L. _Ful_. Where shou’d I be--in Bed; what, are you by dark?

Sir _Cau_. Ay, the Candle went out by Chance.

[Gayman _signs to him to be gone; he makes grimaces
as loath to go, and Exit_.

SCENE VI. _Draws over, and represents another Room in the same House_.

_Enter_ Parson, Diana, _and_ Pert _drest in_ Diana’s _Clothes_.

_Dia_. I’ll swear, Mrs. _Pert_, you look very prettily in my Clothes; and since you, Sir, have convinc’d me that this innocent Deceit is not unlawful, I am glad to be the Instrument of advancing Mrs. _Pert_ to a Husband, she already has so just a Claim to.

_Par_. Since she has so firm a Contract, I pronounce it a lawful Marriage--but hark, they are coming sure--

_Dia_. Pull your Hoods down, and keep your Face from the Light.
[_Diana runs out_.

_Enter_ Bearjest _and_ Noisey _disordered_.

_Bea_. Madam, I beg your Pardon--I met with a most devilish Adventure; --your Pardon too, Mr. Doctor, for making you wait.--But the business is this, Sir--I have a great mind to lie with this young Gentlewoman to Night, but she swears if I do, the Parson of the Parish shall know it.

_Par_. If I do, Sir, I shall keep Counsel.

_Bea_. _And that’s civil, Sir--Come, lead the way,
With such a Guide, the Devil’s in’t if we can go astray_.

[_Exeunt_.

SCENE VII. _Changes to the Anti-chamber_.

_Enter Sir_ Cautious.

Sir _Cau_. Now cannot I sleep, but am as restless as a Merchant in stormy Weather, that has ventur’d all his Wealth in one Bottom.--Woman is a leaky Vessel.--if she should like the young Rogue now, and they should come to a right understanding--why, then I am a--Wittal--that’s all, and shall be put in Print at _Snow-hill_, with my Effigies o’th’ top, like the sign of Cuckolds Haven.--Hum--they’re damnable silent--pray Heaven he have not murdered her, and robbed her--hum--hark, what’s that?--a noise!--he has broke his Covenant with me, and shall forfeit the Money--How loud they are? Ay, ay, the Plot’s discovered, what shall I do?--Why, the Devil is not in her sure, to be refractory now, and peevish; if she be, I must pay my Money yet--and that would be a damn’d thing.--sure they’re coming out--I’ll retire and hearken how ’.is with them. [_Retires_.

_Enter Lady_ Fulbank _undrest_, Gayman, _half undrest upon
his Knees, following her, holding her Gown_.

L. _Ful_. Oh! You unkind--what have you made me do? Unhand me, false Deceiver--let me loose--

Sir _Cau_. Made her do?--so, so--’tis done--I’m glad of that--
[_Aside peeping_.

_Gay_. Can you be angry, _Julia_? Because I only seiz’d my Right of Love.

L. _Ful_. And must my Honour be the Price of it? Could nothing but my Fame reward your Passion? --What, make me a base Prostitute, a foul Adulteress? Oh--be gone, be gone--dear Robber of my Quiet. [_Weeping_.

Sir _Cau_. Oh, fearful!--

_Gay_. Oh! Calm your rage, and hear me; if you are so, You are an innocent Adulteress. It was the feeble Husband you enjoy’d In cold imagination, and no more; Shily you turn’d away--faintly resign’d.

Sir _Cau_. Hum, did she so?--

_Gay_. Till my Excess of Love betray’d the Cheat.

Sir _Cau_. Ay, ay, that was my Fear.

L. _Ful_. Away, be gone--I’ll never see you more--

_Gay_. You may as well forbid the Sun to shine. Not see you more!--Heavens! I before ador’d you, But now I rave! And with my impatient Love, A thousand mad and wild Desires are burning! I have discover’d now new Worlds of Charms, And can no longer tamely love and suffer.

Sir _Cau_. So--I have brought an old House upon my Head, Intail’d Cuckoldom upon my self.

L. _Ful_. I’ll hear no more--Sir _Cautious_,--where’s my Husband? Why have you left my Honour thus unguarded?

Sir _Cau_. Ay, ay, she’s well enough pleas’d, I fear, for all.

_Gay_. Base as he is, ‘twas he expos’d this Treasure; Like silly Indians barter’d thee for Trifles.

Sir _Cau_. O treacherous Villain!--

L. _Ful_. Hah--my Husband do this?

_Gay_. He, by Love, he was the kind Procurer, Contriv’d the means, and brought me to thy Bed.

L. _Ful_. My Husband! My wise Husband! What fondness in my Conduct had he seen, To take so shameful and so base Revenge?

_Gay_. None--’twas filthy Avarice seduc’d him to’t.

L. _Ful_. If he cou’d be so barbarous to expose me, Cou’d you who lov’d me--be so cruel too?

_Gay_. What--to possess thee when the Bliss was offer’d? Possess thee too without a Crime to thee? Charge not my Soul with so remiss a flame, So dull a sense of Virtue to refuse it.

L. _Ful_. I am convinc’d the fault was all my Husband’s-- And here I vow--by all things just and sacred, To separate for ever from his Bed. [_Kneels_.

Sir _Cau_. Oh, I am not able to indure it-- Hold--oh, hold, my Dear-- [_He kneels as she rises_.

L. _Ful_. Stand off--I do abhor thee--

Sir _Cau_. With all my Soul--but do not make rash Vows. They break my very Heart--regard my Reputation.

L. _Ful_. Which you have had such care of, Sir, already-- Rise, ‘tis in vain you kneel.

Sir _Cau_. No--I’ll never rise again--Alas! Madam, I was merely drawn in; I only thought to sport a Dye or so: I had only an innocent design to have discover’d whether this Gentleman had stoln my Gold, that so I might have hang’d him--

_Gay_. A very innocent Design indeed!

Sir _Cau_. Ay, Sir, that’s all, as I’m an honest man.--

L. _Ful_. I’ve sworn, nor are the Stars more fix’d than I.

_Enter Servant_.

_Serv_. How! my Lady and his Worship up?--Madam, a Gentleman and a Lady below in a Coach knockt me up, and say they must speak with your Ladyship.

L. _Ful_. This is strange!--bring them up-- [_Exit Servant_. Who can it be, at this odd time of neither Night nor Day?

_Enter_ Leticia, Bellmour, _and_ Phillis.

_Let_. Madam, your Virtue, Charity and Friendship to me, has made me trespass on you for my Life’s security, and beg you will protect me, and my Husband-- [_Points at_ Bellmour.

Sir _Cau_. So, here’s another sad Catastrophe!

L. _Ful_. Hah--does _Bellmour_ live? is’t possible? Believe me, Sir, you ever had my Wishes; And shall not fail of my Protection now.

_Bel_. I humbly thank your Ladyship.

_Gay_. I’m glad thou hast her, _Harry_; but doubt thou durst not own her; nay dar’st not own thy self.

_Bel_. Yes, Friend, I have my Pardon-- But hark, I think we are pursu’d already-- But now I fear no force.

[_A noise of some body coming in_.

L. _Ful_. However, step into my Bed-chamber.

[_Exeunt_ Leticia, Gayman _and_ Phillis.

_Enter Sir_ Feeble _in an Antick manner_.

Sir _Feeb_. Hell shall not hold thee--nor vast Mountains cover thee, but I will find thee out--and lash thy filthy and Adulterous Carcase. [_Coming up in a menacing manner to Sir _Cau.

Sir _Cau_. How--lash my filthy Carcase?--I defy thee, Satan--

Sir _Feeb_. ‘Twas thus he said.

Sir _Cau_. Let who’s will say it, he lies in’s Throat.

Sir _Feeb_. How, the Ghostly--hush--have a care--for ‘twas the Ghost of _Bellmour_--Oh! hide that bleeding Wound, it chills my Soul!-- [_Runs to the Lady_ Fulbank.

L. _Ful_. What bleeding Wound?--Heavens, are you frantick, Sir?

Sir _Feeb_. No--but for want of rest, I shall e’er Morning. [_Weeps_. --She’s gone--she’s gone--she’s gone-- [_He weeps_.

Sir _Cau_. Ay, ay, she’s gone, she’s gone indeed.
[_Sir_ Cau. _weeps_.

Sir _Feeb_. But let her go, so I may never see that dreadful Vision --harkye, Sir--a word in your Ear--have a care of marrying a young Wife.

Sir _Cau_. Ay, but I have married one already. [_Weeping_.

Sir _Feeb_. Hast thou? Divorce her--flie her, quick--depart--be gone, she’ll cuckold thee--and still she’ll cuckold thee.

Sir _Cau_. Ay, Brother, but whose fault was that?--Why, are not you married?

Sir _Feeb_. Mum--no words on’t, unless you’ll have the Ghost about your Ears; part with your Wife, I say, or else the Devil will part ye.

L. _Ful_. Pray go to Bed, Sir.

Sir _Feeb_. Yes, for I shall sleep now, I shall lie alone; [_Weeps_. Ah, Fool, old dull besotted Fool--to think she’d love me--’twas by base means I gain’d her--cozen’d an honest Gentleman of Fame and Life--

L. _Ful_. You did so, Sir, but ‘tis not past Redress--you may make that honest Gentleman amends.

Sir _Feeb_. Oh, wou’d I could, so I gave half my Estate--

L. _Ful_. That Penitence atones with him and Heaven.--Come forth, _Leticia_, and your injur’d Ghost.

_Enter_ Leticia, Bellmour, _and_ Phillis.

Sir _Feeb_. Hah, Ghost--another Sight would make me mad indeed.

_Bel_. Behold me, Sir, I have no Terror now.

Sir _Feeb_. Hah--who’s that, _Francis!_--my Nephew _Francis_?

_Bel_. _Bellmour_, or _Francis_, chuse you which you like, and I am either.

Sir _Feeb_. Hah, _Bellmour!_ and no Ghost?

_Bel. Bellmour_--and not your Nephew, Sir.

Sir _Feeb_. But art alive? Ods bobs, I’m glad on’t, Sirrah;--But are you real, _Bellmour_?

_Bel_. As sure as I’m no Ghost.

_Gay_. We all can witness for him, Sir.

Sir _Feeb_. Where be the Minstrels, we’ll have a Dance--adod, we will --Ah--art thou there, thou cozening little Chits-face?--a Vengeance on thee--thou madest mean old doting loving Coxcomb--but I forgive thee--and give thee all thy Jewels, and you your Pardon, Sir, so you’ll give me mine; for I find you young Knaves will be too hard for us.

_Bel_. You are so generous, Sir, that ‘tis almost with grief I receive the Blessing of _Leticia_.

Sir _Feeb_. No, no, thou deservest her; she would have made an old fond Blockhead of me, and one way or other you wou’d have had her--ods bobs, you wou’d--

_Enter_ Bearjest, Diana, Pert, Bredwel, _and_ Noisey.

_Bea_. Justice, Sir, Justice--I have been cheated--abused--assassinated and ravisht!

Sir _Cau_. How, my Nephew ravisht!--

_Pert_. No, Sir, I am his Wife.

Sir _Cau_. Hum--my Heir marry a Chamber-maid!

_Bea_. Sir, you must know I stole away Mrs. _Dy_, and brought her to _Ned’s_ Chamber here--to marry her.

Sir _Feeb_. My Daughter _Dy_ stoln--

_Bea_. But I being to go to the Devil a little, Sir, whip--what does he, but marries her himself, Sir; and fob’d me off here with my Lady’s cast Petticoat--

_Noi_. Sir, she’s a Gentlewoman, and my Sister, Sir.

_Pert_. Madam, ‘twas a pious Fraud, if it were one; for I was contracted to him before--see, here it is-- [_Gives it ‘em_.

_All_. A plain Case, a plain Case.

Sir _Feeb_. Harkye, Sir, have you had the Impudence to marry my Daughter, Sir? [_To_ Bredwel, _who with_ Diana _kneels_.

_Bred_. Yes, Sir, and humbly ask your Pardon, and your Blessing--

Sir _Feeb_. You will ha’t, whether I will or not--rise, you are still too hard for us: Come, Sir, forgive your Nephew--

Sir _Cau_. Well, Sir, I will--but all this while you little think the Tribulation I am in, my Lady has forsworn my Bed.

Sir _Feeb_. Indeed, Sir, the wiser she.

Sir _Cau_. For only performing my Promise to this Gentleman.

Sir _Feeb_. Ay, you showed her the Difference, Sir; you’re a wise man. Come, dry your Eyes--and rest your self contented, we are a couple of old Coxcombs; d’ye Hear, Sir, Coxcombs.

Sir _Cau_. I grant it, Sir; and if I die, Sir, I bequeath my Lady to you--with my whole Estate--my Nephew has too much already for a Fool. [_To_ Gayman.

_Gay_. I thank you, Sir--do you consent, my _Julia_?

L. _Ful_. No, Sir--you do not like me--a canvas Bag of wooden Ladles were a better Bed-fellow.

_Gay_. Cruel Tormenter! Oh, I could kill myself with shame and anger!

L. _Ful_. Come hither, _Bredwel_--witness for my Honour--that I had no design upon his Person, but that of trying his Constancy.

_Bred_. Believe me, Sir, ‘tis true--I feigned a danger near--just as you got to bed--and I was the kind Devil, Sir, that brought the Gold to you.

_Bea_. And you were one of the Devils that beat me, and the Captain here, Sir?

_Gay_. No truly, Sir, those were some I hired--to beat you for abusing me to day.

_Noi_. To make you ‘mends, Sir, I bring you the certain News of the death of Sir _Thomas Gayman_, your Uncle, who has left you Two thousand pounds a year--

_Gay_. I thank you, Sir--I heard the news before.

Sir _Cau_. How’s this; Mr. _Gayman_, my Lady’s first Lover? I find, Sir _Feeble_, we were a couple of old Fools indeed, to think at our Age to cozen two lusty young Fellows of their Mistresses; ‘tis no wonder that both the Men and the Women have been too hard for us; we are not fit Matches for either, that’s the truth on’t.

_The Warrior needs must to his Rival yield,
Who comes with blunted Weapons to the Field_.