Enter Sir Cautious.
Sir Cau. Now cannot I sleep, but am as restless as a Merchant in stormy Weather, that has ventur’d all his Wealth in one Bottom.—Woman is a leaky Vessel.—if she should like the young Rogue now, and they should come to a right understanding—why, then I am a—Wittal—that’s all, and shall be put in Print at Snow-hill, with my Effigies o’th’ top, like the sign of Cuckolds Haven.—Hum—they’re damnable silent—pray Heaven he have not murdered her, and robbed her—hum—hark, what’s that?—a noise!—he has broke his Covenant with me, and shall forfeit the Money—How loud they are? Ay, ay, the Plot’s discovered, what shall I do?—Why, the Devil is not in her sure, to be refractory now, and peevish; if she be, I must pay my Money yet—and that would be a damn’d thing.—sure they’re coming out—I’ll retire and hearken how ’.is with them. [Retires.
Enter Lady Fulbank undrest, Gayman, half undrest upon
his Knees, following her, holding her Gown.
L. Ful. Oh! You unkind—what have you made me do? Unhand me, false
Deceiver—let me loose—
Sir Cau. Made her do?—so, so—’tis done—I’m glad of that—
[Aside peeping.
Gay. Can you be angry, Julia? Because I only seiz’d my Right of Love.
L. Ful. And must my Honour be the Price of it?
Could nothing but my Fame reward your Passion?
—What, make me a base Prostitute, a foul Adulteress?
Oh—be gone, be gone—dear Robber of my Quiet. [Weeping.
Sir Cau. Oh, fearful!—
Gay. Oh! Calm your rage, and hear me; if you are so,
You are an innocent Adulteress.
It was the feeble Husband you enjoy’d
In cold imagination, and no more;
Shily you turn’d away—faintly resign’d.
Sir Cau. Hum, did she so?—