Fit. Nay good Sir,—Madame, you did vndertake—
Fitz-dottrel is ſuſpicious of Manly ſtill.
VVit. VVhat?
Fit. That he was not Wittipols friend.
VVit. I heare Sr. no confeſſion of it.
Fit. O ſhe know’s not; 50 Now I remember, Madame! This young Wittipol, VVould ha’ debauch’d my wife, and made me Cuckold, Through a caſement; he did fly her home To mine owne window: but I think I ſou’t him, And rauifh’d her away, out of his pownces. 55 I ha’ ſworne to ha’ him by the eares: I feare The toy, wi’ not do me right.
VVit. No? that were pitty! VVhat right doe you aske, Sir? Here he is will do’t you?
Wittipol diſcouers himſelfe.
Fit. Ha? Wittipol?
VVit. I Sir, no more Lady now, Nor Spaniard!