Volume Iii Part 77 (1/2)

_Gay_. 'Tis not in my Bargain to sollicit her, Sir, you are to procure her--or three hundred pounds, Sir; chuse you whether.

Sir _Cau_. Procure her! with all my soul, Sir; alas, you mistake my honest meaning, I scorn to be so unjust as not to see you a-bed together; and then agree as well as you can, I have done my part--In order to this, Sir--get but your self conveyed in a Chest to my house, with a Direction upon't for me; and for the rest--

_Gay_. I understand you.

Sir _Feeb_. _Ralph_, get supper ready.

_Enter_ Bea. _with Dancers; all go out but Sir_ Cautious.

Sir _Cau_. Well, I must break my Mind, if possible, to my Lady--but if she shou'd be refractory now--and make me pay Three hundred Pounds--why, sure she won't have so little Grace--Three hundred Pounds sav'd, is three hundred pounds got--by our account--Cou'd All--

_Who of this City-Privilege are free, Hope to be paid for Cuckoldom like me; Th'unthriving Merchant, whom gray Hair adorns, Before all Ventures wou'd ensure his Horns; For thus, while he but lets spare Rooms to hire, His Wife's cracked Credit keeps his own entire_.

[_Exit_.

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_.