Volume Iv Part 21 (2/2)

_Fan._ They only sat indeed, Sir Father.

Sir _Pat._ And thou didst not hear a Word they said all the while?

_Fan._ Yes, I did, Sir, and the Man talk'd a great deal of this, and of that, and of t'other, and all the while threw Jessamine in her Bosom.

Sir _Pat._ Well said, and did he nothing else?

_Fan._ No, indeed, Sir Father, nothing.

Sir _Pat._ But what did she say to the Man again?

_Fan._ She said, let me see.--Ay, she said, Lord, you'll forget your self, and stay till somebody catch us.

Sir _Pat._ Ah, very fine,--then what said he?

_Fan._ Then he said, Well if I must be gone, let me leave thee with this hearty Curse, A Pox take thee all over for making me love thee so confoundedly.

Sir _Pat._ Oh horrible!

_Fan._ --Oh, I cou'd live here for ever,--that was when he kist her--her Hand only. Are you not a d.a.m.n'd Woman for making so fond a Puppy of me?

Sir _Pat._ Oh unheard-of Wickedness!

_Fan._ Wou'd the Devil had thee, and all thy Family, e'er I had seen thy cursed Face.

Sir _Pat._ Oh, I'll hear no more, I'll hear no more!--why, what a blasphemous Wretch is this?

_Fan._ Pray, Sir Father, do not tell my Sister of this, she'll be horribly angry with me.

Sir _Pat._ No, no, get you gone.--Oh, I am Heart-sick--I'll up and consult with my Lady what's fit to be done in this Affair. Oh, never was the like heard of.-- [Goes out, _f.a.n.n.y_ and _Nurse_ go the other way.

SCENE IV. _The Lady _Fancy's_ Bed-Chamber; she's discover'd with _Wittmore_ in disorder. A Table, Sword, and Hat._

_Maun._ [Entering.] O Madam, Sir _Patient's_ coming up.

L. _Fan._ Coming up, say you!

_Maun._ He's almost on the top of the Stairs, Madam.

_Wit._ What shall I do?

L. _Fan._ Oh, d.a.m.n him, I know not; if he see thee here after my pretended Illness, he must needs discover why I feign'd.--I have no excuse ready,--this Chamber's unlucky, there's no avoiding him; here--step behind the Bed; perhaps he has only forgot his Psalm-Book and will not stay long.

[_Wittmore_ runs behind the Bed.

Enter Sir _Patient_.

Sir _Pat._ Oh, oh, pardon this Interruption, my Lady _Fancy_--Oh, I am half killed, my Daughter, my Honour--my Daughter, my Reputation.

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