Bred. Sir Cautious—Sir, in Bed.
Sir Feeb. Call him, call him—quickly, good Edward.
Bred. Sure my Lady’s Frolick is betray’d, and he comes to make Mischief. However, I’ll go and secure Mr. Gayman. [Exit Bredwel.
Enter Sir Cautious and Dick his Boy with Light.
Dick. Pray, Sir, go to Bed, here’s no Thieves; all’s still and well.
Sir Cau. This last Night’s misfortune of mine, Dick, has kept me waking, and methought all night, I heard a kind of a silent Noise. I am still afraid of Thieves; mercy upon me, to lose five hundred Guineas at one clap, Dick.—Hah—bless me! what’s yonder? Blow the great Horn, Dick—Thieves—Murder, Murder!
Sir Feeb. Why, what a Pox, are you mad? ‘Tis I, ‘tis I, man.
Sir Cau. I, who am I? Speak—declare—pronounce.
Sir Feeb. Your Friend, old Feeble Fainwou’d.
Sir Cau. How, Sir Feeble! At this late hour, and on his Wedding-Night —why, what’s the matter, Sir—is it Peace or War with you?