Plays, written by Sir John Vanbrugh, volume the first

by John Vanbrugh

Lady Brute. [Aside.] Ah, Lord have mercy upon me! Well—there: now will you go?

Sir John. Now, Wife, you shall see my Gratitude. You gave me two Kisses—I'll give you—two hundred.

[Kisses, and tumbles her.

Lady Brute. O Lord! Pray, Sir John, be quiet. Heavens, what a Pickle am I in!

Bel. [Aside.] If I were in her Pickle, I'd call my Gallant out of the Closet, and he shou'd cudgel him soundly.

Sir John. So, now you being as dirty and as nasty as myself, we may go pig together. But first I must have a Cup of your cold Tea, Wife.

[Going to the Closet.

Lady Brute. O I'm ruin'd! There's none there, my Dear.

Sir John. I'll warrant you I'll find some, my Dear.

Lady Brute. You can't open the Door, the Lock's spoil'd; I have been turning and turning the Key this half Hour to no purpose. I'll send for the Smith to-morrow.