Volume Iii Part 15 (1/2)

[_Exeunt_.

_Enter_ Bellmour, _Sir_ Tim. Sham, _and_ Sharp.

Sir _Tim_. Lord, Lord, that you should not know your Friend and humble Servant, _Tim. Tawdrey_--But thou look'st as if thou hadst not been a-bed yet.

_Bel_. No more I have.

Sir _Tim_. Nay, then thou losest precious time, I'll not detain thee.

[_Offers to go_.

_Bel_. Thou art mistaken, I hate all Woman-kind--

Sir _Tim_. How, how!

_Bel_, Above an Hour--hark ye, Knight--I am as leud, and as debaucht as thou art.

Sir _Tim_. What do you mean, _Frank_?

_Bel_. To tell a Truth, which yet I never did.

--I wh.o.r.e, drink, game, swear, lye, cheat, rob, pimp, hector, all, all I do that's vitious.

Sir _Tim_. Bless me!

_Bel_. From such a Villian, hah!

Sir _Tim_. No, but that thou should'st hide it all this while.

_Bel_. Till I was married only, and now I can dissemble it no longer-- come--let's to a Baudy-House.

Sir _Tim_. A Baudy-house! What, already!

This is the very quintessence of Leudness.

--Why, I thought that I was wicked, but, by Fortune, This dashes mine quite out of Countenance.

_Bel_. Oh, thou'rt a puny Sinner!--I'll teach thee Arts (so rare) of Sin, the least of them shall d.a.m.n thee.

Sir _Tim_. By Fortune, _Frank_, I do not like these Arts.

_Bel_. Then thou'rt a Fool--I'll teach thee to be rich too.

Sir _Tim_. Ay, that I like.

_Bel_. Look here, my Boys!

[_Hold up his Writings, which he takes out of his Pockets_.

The Writings of 3000 pounds a Year: --All this I got by Perjury.

Sir _Tim_. By Fortune, a thriving Sin.

_Bel_. And we will live in Sin while this holds out.