Sir Feeb. Why, what’s the matter, is the House o-fire?
Bel. [Within.] Worse, Sir, worse—
[_He opens the door, Bellmour enters with the Watch in his hand_.
Let. ‘Tis Bellmour’s Voice!
Bel. Oh, Sir, do you know this Watch?
Sir Feeb. This Watch!
Bel. Ay, Sir, this Watch?
Sir Feeb. This Watch!—why, prithee, why dost tell me of a Watch? ‘tis Sir Cautious Fulbank’s Watch; what then, what a Pox dost trouble me with Watches? [Offers to put him out, he returns.
Bel. ‘Tis indeed his Watch, Sir, and by this Token he has sent for you, to come immediately to his House, Sir.
Sir Feeb. What a Devil, art mad, Francis? or is his Worship mad, or does he think me mad?—go, prithee tell him I’ll come to him to morrow. [Goes to put him out.