Volume Iv Part 14 (1/2)
_Isab._ Oh Traytor! wou'd thou hadst been that Ravisher I took thee for, rather than such a Villain--false! and with my Mother too!
L. _Fan._ And just then, Sir, you came to the Door, and lest you shou'd see him, intreated me to hide him from your Anger,--the Offence is not so heinous, Sir, considering he is so soon to marry her.
Sir _Pat._ Well, Sir, and what have you to say in your Defence?--hah, how, Mr. _Knowell_,--worse and worse,--why, how came you hither, Sir?
hah.--
L. _Fan._ Not _Wittmore_! oh, I am ruin'd and betray'd.
[Falls almost in a swoon.
Sir _Pat._ Hah, _Isabella_ here too!
_Isab._ Yes, Sir, to justify her Innocence.
Sir _Pat._ Hah! Innocence! and justify! take her away; go out of my sight, thou Limb of Satan,--take her away, I say, I'll talk with you to morrow, Lady Finetricks--I will.--
_Isab._ --And I'll know before I sleep, the mystery of all this, and who 'twas this faithless Man sent in his room to deceive me in the Garden.
[Goes out.
_Lod._ A plague of all ill-luck--how the Devil came she hither? I must follow and reconcile her.
[Going out, Sir _Patient_ stays him.
Sir _Pat._ Nay, Sir, we must not part so till I have known the truth of this Business, I take it.
_Lod._ Truth, Sir! oh, all that your fair Lady has said, Sir; I must confess her Eyes have wounded me enough with Anger, you need not add more to my Shame.--
L. _Fan._ Some little comfort yet, that he prov'd indeed to be _Isabella's_ Lover: Oh, that I should mistake so unluckily!
[Aside.
Sir _Pat._ Why, I thought it had been Mr. _Fainlove_.
L. _Fan._ By all that's good, and so did I.
_Lod._ I know you did, Madam, or you had not been so kind to me: Your Servant, dear Madam.-- [Going, Sir _Patient_ stays him.
L. _Fan._ Pray, Sir, let him go; oh, how I abominate the sight of a Man that cou'd be so wicked as he has been!
Sir _Pat._ Ha,--good Lady, excellent Woman: well, Sir, for my Lady's sake I'll let you pa.s.s with this, but if I catch you here again, I shall spoil your Intrigues, Sir, marry, shall I, and so rest ye satisfied, Sir.--
_Lod._ At this time, I am, Sir--Madam, a thousand Blessings on you for this Goodness.
L. _Fan._ Ten thousand Curses upon thee,--go, boast the Ruin you have made.
[Aside to _Lod._
Sir _Pat._ Come, no more Anger now, my Lady; the Gentleman's sorry you see, I'll marry my pert Huswife to morrow for this.--_Maundy_, see the Gentleman safe out:--ah, put me to Bed; ah, this Night's Work will kill me, ah, ah.
[Exeunt _Lodwick_ and _Maundy_.
_The Scene draws over Sir _Patient_ and Lady: draws again and discovers_