Bell. Ah, Malheureuse! How was I mistaken in this Man?
Char. Mistaken! What, did you take me for an easy Fool to be impos’d upon?—One that wou’d be cuckolded by every feather’d Fool; that you’d call a Beau un Gallant Homme. ‘Sdeath! Who wou’d doat upon a fond She-Fop?—a vain conceited amorous Coquette. [Goes out, she pulls him back.
Enter Scaramouch running.
Sea. Oh Madam! hide your Lover, or we are all undone.
Char. I will not hide, till I know the thing that made the Verses. [The Doctor calling as on the Stairs.
Doct. Bellemante, Niece,—Bellemante.
Scar. She’s coming, Sir.—Where, where shall I hide him? —Oh, the Closet’s open! [Thrusts him into the Closet by force.
Enter Doctor.
Doct. Oh Niece! Ill Luck, Ill Luck, I must leave you to night; my Brother the Advocate is sick, and has sent for me; ‘tis three long Leagues, and dark as ‘tis, I must go.—They say he is dying. Here, take my Keys, [Pulls out his Keys, one falls down. and go into my Study, and look over all my Papers, and bring me all those mark’d with a Cross and figure of Three, they concern my Brother and I.
[She looks on Scaramouch, and makes pitiful Signs, and goes out.