Gay. Well, I find you are not for the Bargain, and so I put up—
Sir Cau. Hold, Sir—why so hasty—my Wife? no—put up your Money,
Sir—what, lose my Wife for three hundred Pounds!—
Gay. Lose her, Sir!—why, she shall be never the worse for my wearing, Sir—the old covetous Rogue is considering on’t, I think—What say you to a Night? I’ll set it to a Night—there’s none need know it, Sir.
Sir Cau. Hum—a Night!—three hundred Pounds for a Night! why, what a lavish Whore-master’s this! We take Money to marry our Wives, but very seldom part with ‘em, and by the Bargain get Money—For a Night, say you?—Gad, if I shou’d take the Rogue at his word, ‘twou’d be a pure Jest. [Aside.
Sir Feeb. You are not mad, Brother.
Sir Cau. No, but I’m wise—and that’s as good; let me consider.—
Sir Feeb. What, whether you shall be a Cuckold or not?
Sir Cau. Or lose three hundred Pounds—consider that. A Cuckold!—why, ’.is a word—an empty sound—’tis Breath—’tis Air—’tis nothing:—but three hundred Pounds—Lord, what will not three hundred Pounds do? You may chance to be a Cuckold for nothing, Sir—
Sir Feeb. It may be so—but she shall do’t discretly then.
Sir Cau. Under favour, you’re an Ass, Brother; this is the discreetest way of doing it, I take it.