Beau. Or behind the hangings, Sir Jolly, would not that do as well?
Sir Jol. Ah no, under the bed against the world, and then it would be very dark, ha!
Beau. Dark to choose?
Sir Jol. No, but a little light would do well; a small glimmering lamp, just enough for me to steal a peep by; oh, lamentable! oh, lamentable! I won't speak a word more! there would be a trick! O rare! you friend, O rare! Odds-so, not a word more, odds-so, yonder comes the monster that must be the cuckold-elect; step, step aside and observe him; if I should be seen in your company, 'twould spoil all.
[Exeunt Sir Jolly and Courtine.
Beau. For my part, I'll stand the meeting of him; one way to promote a good understanding with a wife, is first to get acquainted with her husband. [Retires.
Enter Sir Davy Dunce.
Sir Dav. Well, of all blessings, a discreet wife is the greatest that can light upon a man of years: had I been married to anything but an angel now, what a beast had I been by this time! well, I am the happiest old fool! 'tis a horrid age that we live in, so that an honest man can keep nothing to himself. If you have a good estate, every covetous rogue is longing for't (truly I love a good estate dearly myself); if you have a handsome wife, every smooth-faced coxcomb will be combing and cocking[35] at her: flesh-flies are not so troublesome to the shambles as those sort of insects are to the boxes in the play-house. But virtue is a great blessing, an unvaluable treasure: to tell me herself that a villain had tempted her, and give me the very picture, the enchantment that he sent to bewitch her! it strikes me dumb with admiration. Here's the villain in effigy. [Pulls out the picture.] Odd! a very handsome fellow, a dangerous rogue, I'll warrant him: such fellows as these now should be fettered like unruly colts, that they might not leap into other men's pastures. Here's a nose now, I could find it in my heart to cut it off. Damned dog, to dare to presume to make a cuckold of a knight!—bless us! what will this world come to? Well, poor Sir Davy, down, down on thy knees, and thank thy stars for this deliverance.
Beau. 'Sdeath! what's that I see? sure 'tis the very picture which I sent by Sir Jolly; if so, by this light, I am damnably jilted.
Sir Dav. But now if—