Volume Iv Part 19 (2/2)

L. _Fan._ This is the Musick that I long'd to hear.--Die!--Oh, that fatal Word will kill me-- [Weeps.

Name it no more, if you'd preserve my Life.

Sir _Pat._ Hah--now cannot I refrain joining with her in affectionate Tears.--No, but do not weep for me, my excellent Lady, for I have made a pretty competent Estate for thee. Eight thousand Pounds, which I have conceal'd in my Study behind the Wainscot on the left hand as you come in.

L. _Fan._ Oh, tell me not of transitory Wealth, for I'm resolv'd not to survive thee. Eight thousand Pound say you?--Oh, I cannot endure the thoughts on't.

[Weeps.

Sir _Pat._ Eight thousand Pounds just, my dearest Lady.

L. _Fan._ Oh, you'll make me desperate in naming it,--is it in Gold or Silver?

Sir _Pat._ In Gold, my dearest, the most part, the rest in Silver.

L. _Fan._ Good Heavens! why should you take such pleasure in afflicting me? [Weeps.] --Behind the Wainscot say you?

Sir _Pat._ Behind the Wainscot, prithee be pacified,--thou makest me lose my greatest Virtue, Moderation, to see thee thus: alas, we're all born to die.--

L. _Fan._ Again of dying! Uncharitable Man, why do you delight in tormenting me?--On the left hand, say you as you go in?

Sir _Pat._ On the left hand, my Love: had ever Man such a Wife?

L. _Fan._ Oh, my Spirits fail me--lead me, or I shall faint,--lead me to the Study, and shew me where 'tis,--for I am able to hear no more of it.

Sir _Pat._ I will, if you will promise indeed and indeed, not to grieve too much.

[Going to lead her out.

Enter _Wittmore_.

_Wit._ Heaven grant me some kind opportunity to speak with _Lucia_! hah, she's here,--and with her the fond Cuckold her Husband.--Death, he has spy'd me, there's no avoiding him.--

Sir _Pat._ Oh, are you there, Sir?--_Maundy_, look to my Lady,--I take it, Sir, you have not dealt well with a Person of my Authority and Gravity.

[Gropes for the Letter in his pocket.

_Wit._ So this can be nothing less than my being found out to be no _Yorks.h.i.+re_ Esq; a Pox of my _Geneva_ Breeding; it must be so, what the Devil shall I say now?

Sir _Pat._ And this disingenuous dealing does ill become the Person you have represented, I take it.

_Wit._ Represented! ay, there 'tis, wou'd I were handsomely off o' this Business; neither _Lucia_ nor _Maundy_ have any intelligence in their demure looks that can instruct a Man.--Why, faith, Sir,--I must confess,--I am to blame--and that I have--a--

L. _Fan._ Oh, _Maundy_, he'll discover all, what shall we do?

Sir _Pat._ Have what, Sir?

_Wit._ From my violent Pa.s.sion for your Daughter--

L. _Fan._ Oh, I'm all Confusion.--

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