Car. Come, I’m abus’d, but I must put it up for fear of my Honour; a Statesman’s Reputation is a tender thing: Convey me out the back way. I’ll be reveng’d. [Goes out.
Feth. (Aurelia whispers to him aside.) How, her Husband! Prithee convey me out; my Clothes, my Clothes, quickly—
Aur. Out, Sir! he has lock’d the Door, and designs to have ye murder’d.
Feth. Oh, gentle Soul—take pity on me—where, oh what shall I do?—my Clothes, my Sword and Money.
Aur. Quickly, Sancho, tie a Sheet to the Window, and let him slide down by that—Be speedy, and we’ll throw your Clothes out after ye. Here, follow me to the Window.
Feth. [Oh, any whither, any whither.] That I could not be warn’d from whoring in a strange Country, by my Friend Ned Blunt’s Example—if I can but keep it secret now, I care not. [Exeunt.
[Scene, the Street], a Sheet tyd to the Balcony, and Feth. sitting cross to slide down.
Feth. So—now your Neck, or your Throat, chuse ye either, wise Mr. Nicholas Fetherfool—But stay, I hear Company. Now dare not I budg an Inch.
Enter Beaumond alone.
Beau. Where can this Rascal, my Page, be all this while? I waited in the Piazza so long, that [I believed he had] mistook my Order, and gone directly to La Nuche’s House—but here’s no sign of him—