Gay. Cruel Tormenter! Oh, I could kill myself with shame and anger!
L. Ful. Come hither, Bredwel—witness for my Honour—that I had no design upon his Person, but that of trying his Constancy.
Bred. Believe me, Sir, ‘tis true—I feigned a danger near—just as you got to bed—and I was the kind Devil, Sir, that brought the Gold to you.
Bea. And you were one of the Devils that beat me, and the Captain here, Sir?
Gay. No truly, Sir, those were some I hired—to beat you for abusing me to day.
Noi. To make you ‘mends, Sir, I bring you the certain News of the death of Sir Thomas Gayman, your Uncle, who has left you Two thousand pounds a year—
Gay. I thank you, Sir—I heard the news before.
Sir Cau. How’s this; Mr. Gayman, my Lady’s first Lover? I find, Sir Feeble, we were a couple of old Fools indeed, to think at our Age to cozen two lusty young Fellows of their Mistresses; ‘tis no wonder that both the Men and the Women have been too hard for us; we are not fit Matches for either, that’s the truth on’t.
The Warrior needs must to his Rival yield, Who comes with blunted Weapons to the Field.