Beau. [Reads.] "But he, I am satisfied, is so severely jealous, that except you contrive some way to let me see you this evening, I fear all will be hopeless."
Sir Dav. Impudent traitor! I might have been a monster yet, before I had got my supper in my belly.
Beau. [Reads.] "In order to which, either appear yourself, or somebody for you, half an hour hence in the Piazza, where more may be considered of. Adieu."
Sir Dav. Thanks to you, noble sir, with all my heart; you are come, I see, accordingly; but, as a friend, I am bound in conscience to tell you the business won't do; the trick won't pass, friend; you may put up your pipes, and march off. O Lord! he lie with my wife! pugh—he make Sir Davy Dunce a cuckold! poor wretch, ha, ha, ha!
Sir Jol. [To Beaugard] Hist, hist, hist!
Re-enter Lady Dunce and Fourbin disguised.
L. Dunce. That's he, there he is: succeed, and be rewarded.
Four. Other people may think what they please; but, in my own opinion, I am a very pretty fellow now; if my design but succeed upon this old baboon, I'll be canonized. Sir, sir, sir.
Sir Dav. Friend, with me? would you speak with me, friend?