Gay. I see you’re peevish, and you shall be humour’d.—You know my Julia play’d me e’en such another Prank as your false one is going to play you, and married old Sir Cautious Fulbank here i’th’ City; at which you know I storm’d, and rav’d, and swore, as thou wo’t now, and to as little purpose. There was but one way left, and that was cuckolding him.
Bel. Well, that Design I left thee hot upon.
Gay. And hotly have pursu’d it: Swore, wept, vow’d, wrote, upbraided, prayed and railed; then treated lavishly, and presented high—till, between you and I, Harry, I have presented the best part of Eight hundred a year into her Husband’s hands, in Mortgage.
Bel. This is the Course you’d have me steer, I thank you.
Gay. No, no, Pox on’t, all Women are not Jilts. Some are honest, and will give as well as take; or else there would not be so many broke i’th’ City. In fine, Sir, I have been in Tribulation, that is to say, Moneyless, for six tedious Weeks, without either Clothes, or Equipage to appear withal; and so not only my own Love-affair lay neglected—but thine too—and I am forced to pretend to my Lady, that I am i’th’ Country with a dying Uncle—from whom, if he were indeed dead, I expect two thousand a Year.
Bel. But what’s all this to being here this Morning?
Gay. Thus have I lain conceal’d like a Winter-Fly, hoping for some blest Sunshine to warm me into life again, and make me hover my flagging Wings; till the News of this Marriage (which fills the Town) made me crawl out this silent Hour, to upbraid the fickle Maid.
Bel. Didst thou?—pursue thy kind Design. Get me to see her; and sure no Woman, even possest with a new Passion, Grown confident even to Prostitution, But when she sees the Man to whom she’s sworn so very—very much, will find Remorse and Shame.
Gay. For your sake, though the day be broke upon us, And I’m undone, if seen—I’ll venture in— [Throws his Cloke over.
Enter Sir Feeble Fainwou’d, Sir Cautious Fulbank, Bearjest and Noisey. [Pass over the Stage, and go in.