Chapter 36

_After a Knocking, enter_ Bredwel _in his masking Habit, with his Vizard in the one Hand, and a Light in t’other, in haste_.

_Bred_. Hah, knocking so late at our Gate-- [_Opens the door_.

_Enter Sir_ Feeble _drest, and arm’d Cap-a-pee, with a broad Waste-Belt stuck round with Pistols, a Helmet, Scarf, Buff-coat and half Pike_.

Sir _Feeb_. How now, how now, what’s the matter here?

_Bred_. Matter, what, is my Lady’s innocent Intrigue found out?-- Heavens, Sir, what makes you here in this warlike Equipage?

Sir _Feeb_. What makes you in this showing Equipage, Sir?

_Bred_. I have been dancing among some of my Friends.

Sir _Feeb_. And I thought to have been fighting with some of my Friends. Where’s Sir _Cautious_, where’s Sir _Cautious_?

_Bred_. Sir _Cautious_--Sir, in Bed.

Sir _Feeb_. Call him, call him--quickly, good _Edward_.

_Bred_. Sure my Lady’s Frolick is betray’d, and he comes to make Mischief. However, I’ll go and secure Mr. _Gayman_. [_Exit_ Bredwel.

_Enter Sir_ Cautious _and_ Dick _his Boy with Light_.

_Dick_. Pray, Sir, go to Bed, here’s no Thieves; all’s still and well.

Sir _Cau_. This last Night’s misfortune of mine, _Dick_, has kept me waking, and methought all night, I heard a kind of a silent Noise. I am still afraid of Thieves; mercy upon me, to lose five hundred Guineas at one clap, _Dick_.--Hah--bless me! what’s yonder? Blow the great Horn, _Dick_--Thieves--Murder, Murder!

Sir _Feeb_. Why, what a Pox, are you mad? ‘Tis I, ‘tis I, man.

Sir _Cau_. I, who am I? Speak--declare--pronounce.

Sir _Feeb_. Your Friend, old _Feeble Fainwou’d_.

Sir _Cau_. How, Sir _Feeble_! At this late hour, and on his Wedding-Night --why, what’s the matter, Sir--is it Peace or War with you?

Sir _Feeb_. A Mistake, a Mistake, proceed to the business, good Brother, for time you know is precious.

Sir _Cau_. Some strange Catastrophe has happened between him and his Wife to Night, and makes him disturb me thus-- [_Aside_. --Come, sit, good Brother, and to the business as you say--

[_They sit one at one end of the Table, the other at the other; _Dick_ sets down the Light and goes out--both sit gaping and staring, and expecting when either should speak_.

Sir _Feeb_. As soon as you please, Sir. Lord, how wildly he stares! He’s much disturb’d in’s mind --Well, Sir, let us be brief--

Sir _Cau_. As brief as you please, Sir--Well, Brother-- [_Pausing still_.

Sir _Feeb_. So, Sir.

Sir _Cau_. How strangely he stares and gapes--some deep concern.

Sir _Feeb_. Hum--hum--

Sir _Cau_. I listen to you, advance--

Sir _Feeb_. Sir?

Sir _Cau_. A very distracted Countenance--pray Heaven he be not mad, and a young Wife is able to make an old Fellow mad, that’s the Truth on’t. [_Aside_.

Sir _Feeb_. Sure ‘tis something of his Lady--he’s so loth to bring it out --I am sorry you are thus disturb’d, Sir.

Sir _Cau_. No disturbance to serve a Friend--

Sir _Feeb_. I think I am your Friend indeed, Sir _Cautious_, or I wou’d not have been here upon my Wedding-Night.

Sir _Cau_. His Wedding-Night--there lies his Grief, poor Heart! Perhaps she has cuckolded him already-- [_Aside_. --Well, come, Brother--many such things are done--

Sir _Feeb_. Done--hum--come, out with it; Brother--what troubles you to Night?

Sir _Cau_. Troubles me--why, knows he I am robb’d? [_Aside_.

Sir _Feeb_. I may perhaps restore you to the Rest you’ve lost.

Sir _Cau_. The Rest; why, have I lost more since? Why, know you then who did it?--Oh, how I’d be reveng’d upon the Rascal!

Sir _Feeb_. ‘Tis--Jealousy, the old Worm that bites-- [_Aside_. Who is it you suspect?

Sir _Cau_. Alas, I know not whom to suspect, I wou’d I did; but if you cou’d discover him--I wou’d so swinge him--

Sir _Feeb_. I know him--what, do you take me for a Pimp, Sir? I know him--there’s your Watch again, Sir; I’m your Friend, but no Pimp, Sir-- [_Rises in Rage_.

Sir _Cau_. My Watch; I thank you, Sir--but why Pimp, Sir?

Sir _Feeb_. Oh, a very thriving Calling, Sir,--and I have a young Wife to practise with. I know your Rogues.

Sir _Cau_. A young Wife!--’tis so, his Gentlewoman has been at Hot-Cockles without her Husband, and he’s Horn-mad upon’t. I suspected her being so close in with his Nephew--in a Fit with a Pox--[_Aside_.] Come, come, Sir _Feeble_, ‘tis many an honest Man’s Fortune.

Sir _Feeb_. I grant it, Sir--but to the business, Sir, I came for.

Sir _Cau_. With all my Soul--

[_They sit gaping, and expecting when either should speak. Enter_ Bredwel _and_ Gayman _at the door_. Bredwel _sees them, and puts_ Gayman_ back again_.

_Bred_. Hah--Sir _Feeble_, and Sir _Cautious_ there--what shall I do? For this way we must pass, and to carry him back wou’d discover my Lady to him, betray all, and spoil the Jest--retire, Sir, your Life depends upon your being unseen. [_Go out_.

Sir _Feeb_. Well, Sir, do you not know that I am married, Sir? and this my Wedding Night?

Sir _Cau_. Very good, Sir.

Sir _Feeb_. And that I long to be in bed?

Sir _Cau_. Very well, Sir.

Sir _Feeb_. Very good, Sir, and very well, Sir--why then what the Devil do I make here, Sir? [_Rises in a rage_.

Sir _Cau_. Patience, Brother--and forward.

Sir _Feeb_. Forward! lend me your hand, good Brother; let’s feel your Pulse; how has this Night gone with you?

Sir _Cau_. Ha, ha, ha--this is the oddest Quonudrum--sure he’s mad--and yet now I think on’t, I have not slept to night, nor shall I ever sleep again, till I have found the Villain that robb’d me. [_Weeps_.

Sir _Feeb_. So, now he weeps--far gone--this Laughing and Weeping is a very bad sign! [_Aside_.] Come, let me lead you to your Bed.

Sir _Cau_. Mad, stark mad--no, now I’m up ‘tis no matter--pray ease your troubled Mind--I am your Friend--out with it--what, was it acted? or but designed?

Sir _Feeb_. How, Sir?

Sir _Cau_. Be not asham’d, I’m under the same Premunire I doubt, little better than a--but let that pass.

Sir _Feeb_. Have you any Proof?

Sir _Cau_. Proof of what, good Sir?

Sir _Feeb_. Of what! why, that you’re a Cuckold; Sir, a Cuckold, if you’ll ha’t.

Sir _Cau_. Cuckold! Sir, do ye know what ye say?

Sir _Feeb_. What I say?

Sir _Cau_. Ay, what you say, can you make this out?

Sir _Feeb_. I make it out!

Sir _Cau_. Ay, Sir--if you say it, and cannot make it out, you’re a--

Sir _Feeb_. What am I, Sir? What am I?

Sir _Cau_. A Cuckold as well as my self, Sir; and I’ll sue you for _Scandalum Magnatum_; I shall recover swinging Damages with a City-Jury.

Sir _Feeb_. I know of no such thing, Sir.

Sir _Cau_. No, Sir?

Sir _Feeb_. No, Sir.

Sir _Cau_. Then what wou’d you be at, Sir?

Sir _Feeb_. I be at, Sir! what wou’d you be at, Sir?

Sir _Cau_. Ha, ha, ha--why this is the strangest thing--to see an old Fellow, a Magistrate of the City, the first Night he’s married, forsake his Bride and Bed, and come arm’d Cap-a-pee, like _Gargantua_, to disturb another old Fellow, and banter him with a Tale of a Tub; and all to be-cuckold him here--in plain _English_, what’s your Business?

Sir _Feeb_. Why, what the Devil’s your Business, and you go to that?

Sir _Cau_. My Business, with whom?

Sir _Feeb_. With me, Sir, with me; what a Pox do you think I do here?

Sir _Cau_. ‘Tis that I wou’d be glad to know, Sir.

_Enter _Dick.

Sir _Feeb_. Here, _Dick_, remember I’ve brought back your Master’s Watch; next time he sends for me o’er Night, I’ll come to him in the Morning.

Sir _Cau_. Ha, ha, ha, I send for you! Go home and sleep, Sir--Ad, and ye keep your Wife waking to so little purpose, you’ll go near to be haunted with a Vision of Horns.

[_Exit_ Dick.

Sir _Feeb_. Roguery, Knavery, to keep me from my Wife--Look ye, this was the Message I receiv’d. [_Tells him seemingly_.

_Enter_ Bredwel _to the Door in a white Sheet like a Ghost, speaking to_ Gayman _who stands within_.

_Bred_. Now, Sir, we are two to two, for this way you must pass or be taken in the Lady’s Lodgings--I’ll first adventure out to make you pass the safer, and that he may not, if possible, see Sir _Cautious_, whom I shall fright into a Trance, I am sure. And Sir _Feeble_, the Devil’s in’t if he know him. [_Aside_.

_Gay_. A brave kind Fellow this.

_Enter_ Bredwel _stalking on as a Ghost by them_.

Sir _Cau_. Oh--undone,--undone; help, help;--I’m dead, I’m dead. [_Falls down on his Face; Sir_ Feeble _stares,--and stands still_.

_Bred_. As I could wish. [_Aside, turns_. Come on, thou ghastly thing, and follow me.

_Enter_ Gayman _like a Ghost, with a Torch_.

Sir _Cau_. Oh Lord, oh Lord!

_Gay_. Hah!--old Sir _Feeble Fainwou’d_--why, where the Devil am I? --’Tis he:--and be it where it will, I’ll fright the old Dotard for cozening my Friend of his Mistress. [_Stalks on_.

Sir _Feeb_. Oh, guard me,--guard me--all ye Pow’rs! [_Trembling_.

_Gay_. Thou call’st in vain, fond Wretch--for I am _Bellmour_,

_Whom first thou robb’st of Fame and Life, And then what dearer was,--his Wife_.

[_Goes out, shaking his Torch at him_.

Sir _Cau_. Oh Lord--oh Lord!

_Enter L_. Fulbank _in an undress, and_ Pert _undrest.

L. _Ful_. Heavens, what noise is this?--So he’s got safe out I see--hah, what thing art thou? [_Sees Sir _Feeble_ arm’d_.

Sir _Feeb_. Stay, Madam, stay--’tis I, a poor trembling Mortal.

L. _Ful_. Sir _Feeble Fainwou’d!_--rise,--are you both mad?

Sir _Cau_. No, no,--Madam, we have seen the Devil.

Sir _Feeb_. Ay, and he was as tall as the Monument.

Sir _Cau_. With Eyes like a Beacon--and a Mouth,--Heaven bless us, like _London_ Bridge at a full Tide.

Sir _Feeb_. Ay, and roar’d as loud.

L. _Ful_. Idle Fancies, what makes you from your Bed? and you, Sir, from your Bride?

_Enter_ Dick _with Sack_.

Sir _Feeb_. Oh! that’s the business of another day, a mistake only, Madam.

L. _Ful_. Away, I’m asham’d to see wise Men so weak; the Fantoms of the Night, or your own Shadows, the Whimseys of the Brain for want of Rest, or perhaps _Bredwel_, your Man--who being wiser than his Master, play’d you this Trick to fright you both to Bed.

Sir _Feeb_. Hum--adod, and that may be, for the young Knave when he let me in to Night, was drest up for some Waggery--

Sir _Cau_. Ha, ha, ha, ‘twas even so, sure enough, Brother--

Sir _Feeb_. Ads bobs, but they frighted me at first basely--but I’ll home to Pupsey, there may be Roguery, as well as here--Madam, I ask your Pardon, I see we’re all mistaken.

L. _Ful_. Ay, Sir _Feeble_, go home to your Wife.

[_Ex. severally_.