Chapter 38

_Enter Lady_ Fulbank, Gayman _fine, gently pulling her back by the hand; and_ Ralph _meets ‘em_.

L. _Ful_. How now, _Ralph_--Let your Lady know I am come to wait on her.

[_Exit _Ralph.

_Gay_. Oh, why this needless Visit-- Your Husband’s safe, at least till Evening safe. Why will you not go back, And give me one soft hour, though to torment me?

L. _Ful_. You are at leisure now, I thank you, Sir. Last Night when I with all Love’s Rhetorick pleaded, And Heaven knows what last Night might have produced, You were engag’d! False Man, I do believe it, And I am satisfied you love me not. [_Walks away in scorn_.

_Gay_. Not love you! Why do I waste my Youth in vain pursuit, Neglecting Interest, and despising Power? Unheeding and despising other Beauties. Why at your feet are all my Fortunes laid, And why does all my Fate depend on you?

L. _Ful_. I’ll not consider why you play the Fool, Present me Rings and Bracelets; why pursue me; Why watch whole Nights before my senseless Door, And take such Pains to shew your self a Coxcomb.

_Gay_. Oh! why all this? By all the Powers above, by this dear Hand, And by this Ring, which on this Hand I place, On which I’ve sworn Fidelity to Love; I never had a Wish or soft Desire To any other Woman, Since _Julia_ sway’d the Empire of my Soul.

L. _Ful_. Hah, my own Ring I gave him last night. [_Aside_. --Your Jewel, Sir, is rich: Why do you part with things of so much value, So easily, and so frequently?

_Gay_. To strengthen the weak Arguments of Love.

L. _Ful_. And leave your self undone?

_Gay_. Impossible, if I am blest with _Julia_.

L. _Ful_. Love’s a thin Diet, nor will keep out Cold. You cannot satisfy your Dunning Taylor, To cry--I am in Love! Though possible you may your Seamstress.

_Gay_. Does ought about me speak such Poverty?

L. _Ful_. I am sorry that it does not, since to maintain This Gallantry, ‘tis said you use base means, Below a Gentleman.

_Gay_. Who dares but to imagine it’s a Rascal, A Slave, below a beating--what means my _Julia_?

L. _Ful_. No more dissembling, I know your Land is gone --I know each Circumstance of all your Wants; Therefore--as e’er you hope that I should love you ever-- Tell me--where ‘twas you got this Jewel, Sir.

_Gay_. Hah--I hope ‘tis no stol’n Goods; [_Aside_. Why on the sudden all this nice examining?

L. _Ful_. You trifle with me, and I’ll plead no more.

_Gay_. Stay--why--I bought it, Madam--

L. _Ful_. Where had you Money, Sir? You see I am No Stranger to your Poverty.

_Gay_. This is strange--perhaps it is a secret.

L. _Ful_. So is my Love, which shall be kept from you. [_Offers to go_.

_Gay_. Stay, _Julia_--your Will shall be obey’d, [_Sighing_. Though I had rather die than be obedient, Because I know you’ll hate me when ‘tis told.

L. _Ful_. By all my Vows, let it be what it will, It ne’er shall alter me from loving you.

_Gay_. I have--of late--been tempted-- With Presents, Jewels, and large Sums of Gold.

L. _Ful_. Tempted! by whom?

_Gay_. The Devil, for ought I know.

L. _Ful_. Defend me, Heaven! the Devil? I hope you have not made a Contract with him.

_Gay_. No, though in the Shape of Woman it appear’d.

L. _Ful_. Where met you with it?

_Gay_. By Magick Art I was conducted--I know not how, To an inchanted Palace in the Clouds, Where I was so attended-- Young dancing, singing Fiends innumerable.

L. _Ful_. Imagination all!

_Gay_. But for the amorous Devil, the old _Proserpine_.--

L. _Ful_. Ay, she--what said she?--

_Gay_. Not a word: Heaven be prais’d, she was a silent Devil--but she was laid in a Pavilion, all form’d of gilded Clouds, which hung by Geometry, whither I was conveyed, after much Ceremony, and laid in Bed with her; where with much ado, and trembling with my Fears--I forc’d my Arms about her.

L. _Ful_. And sure that undeceiv’d him. [_Aside_.

_Gay_. But such a Carcase ‘twas--deliver me--so rivell’d, lean and rough--a Canvas Bag of wooden Ladles were a better Bed-fellow.

L. _Ful_. Now though I know that nothing is more distant than I from such a Monster--yet this angers me. Death! cou’d you love me and submit to this?

_Gay_. ‘Twas that first drew me in-- The tempting Hope of Means to conquer you, Wou’d put me upon any dangerous Enterprize: Were I the Lord of all the Universe, I am so lost in Love, For one dear Night to clasp you in my Arms, I’d lavish all that World--then die with Joy.

L. _Ful_. ‘Slife, after all to seem deform’d, old, ugly-- [_Walking in a fret_.

_Gay_. I knew you would be angry when you heard it. [_He pursues her in a submissive posture_.

_Enter Sir_ Cautious, Bearjest, Noisey _and_ Bredwel.

Sir _Cau_. How, what’s here?--my Lady with the Spark that courted her last Night?--hum--with her again so soon?--Well, this Impudence and Importunity undoes more City-Wives than all their unmerciful Finery.

_Gay_. But, Madam--

L. _Ful_. Oh, here’s my Husband--you’d best tell him your Story--what makes him here so soon?-- [_Angry_.

Sir _Cau_. Me his Story! I hope he will not tell me he’as a mind to cuckold me.

_Gay_. A Devil on him, what shall I say to him?

L. _Ful_. What, so excellent at Intrigues, and so dull at an Excuse? [_Aside_.

_Gay_. Yes, Madam, I shall tell him--

_Enter _Bellmour.

L. _Ful_.--Is my Lady at leisure for a Visit, Sir?

_Bel_. Always to receive your Ladyship.

[_She goes out_.

Sir _Cau_. With me, Sir, wou’d you speak?

_Gay_. With you, Sir, if your name be _Fulbank_.

Sir _Cau_. Plain _Fulbank_! methinks you might have had a Sirreverence, under your Girdle, Sir; I am honoured with another Title, Sir-- [_Goes talking to the rest_.

_Gay_. With many, Sir, that very well become you-- [_Pulls him a little aside_. I’ve something to deliver to your Ear.

Sir _Cau_. So, I’ll be hang’d if he do not tell me, I’m a Cuckold now: I see it in his Eyes. My Ear, Sir! I’d have you to know I scorn any man’s secrets, Sir;--for ought I know you may whisper Treason to me, Sir. Pox on him, how handsom he is, I hate the sight of the young Stallion. [_Aside_.

_Gay_. I wou’d not be so uncivil, Sir, before all this Company.

Sir _Cau_. Uncivil! Ay, ay, ‘tis so, he cannot be content to cuckold, but he must tell me so too.

_Gay_. But since you will have it, Sir--you are--a Rascal--a most notorious Villain, Sir, d’ye hear--

Sir _Cau_. Yes, yes, I do hear--and am glad ‘tis no worse. [_Laughing_.

_Gay_. Griping as Hell--and as insatiable--worse than a Brokering Jew, not all the Twelve Tribes harbour such a damn’d Extortioner.

Sir _Cau_. Pray, under favour, Sir, who are you? [_Pulling off his Hat_.

_Gay_. One whom thou hast undone--

Sir _Cau_. Hum--I’m glad of that however. [_Aside smiling_.

_Gay_. Racking me up to a starving Want and Misery, Then took advantages to ruin me.

Sir _Cau_. So, and he’d revenge it on my Wife-- [_Aside smiling_.

_Gay_. Do not you know one _Wasteall_, Sir?

_Enter_ Ralph _with Wine, sets it on a Table_.

Sir _Cau_. _Wasteall_--ha, ha, ha,--if you are any Friend to that poor Fellow--you may return and tell him, Sir--d’ye hear--that the Mortgage of two hundred pound a Year is this day out, and I’ll not bait him an hour, Sir--ha, ha, ha,--what, do you think to hector civil Magistrates?

_Gay_. Very well, Sir, and is this your Conscience?

Sir _Cau_. Conscience! what do you tell me of Conscience? Why, what a noise is here--as if the undoing a young Heir were such a Wonder; ods so I’ve undone a hundred without, half this ado.

_Gay_. I do believe thee--and am come to tell you--I’ll be none of that Number--for this Minute I’ll go and redeem it--and free myself from the Hell of your Indentures.

Sir _Cau_. How, redeem it! sure the Devil must help him then.--Stay, Sir--stay--Lord, Sir, what need you put your self to that trouble? your Land is in safe hands, Sir; come, come, sit down--and let us take a Glass of Wine together, Sir--

_Bel_. Sir, my service to you. [_Drinks to him_.

_Gay_. Your Servant, Sir. Wou’d I cou’d come to speak to _Bellmour_, which I dare not do in publick, lest I betray him. I long to be resolv’d where ‘twas Sir _Feeble_ was last night--if it were he--by which I might find out my invisible Mistress.

_Noi_. Noble Mr. _Wasteall_-- [_Salutes him, so does_ Bearjest.

_Bel_. Will you please to sit, Sir?

_Gay_. I have a little business, Sir--but anon I’ll wait on you--your Servant, Gentlemen--I’ll to _Crap_ the Scrivener’s. [_Goes out_.

Sir _Cau_. Do you know this _Wasteall_, Sir?-- [_To_ Noisey.

_Noi_. Know him, Sir! ay, too well--

_Bea_. The World’s well amended with him, Captain, since I lost my Money to him and you at the _George_ in _White-Fryers_.

_Noi_. Ay, poor Fellow--he’s sometimes up, and sometimes down, as the Dice favour him--

_Bea_. Faith, and that’s pity; but how came he so fine o’th’ sudden? ’.was but last week he borrowed eighteen pence of me on his Waste-Belt to pay his Dinner in an Ordinary.

_Bel_. Were you so cruel, Sir, to take it?

_Noi_. We are not all one Man’s Children; faith, Sir, we are here to Day, and gone to Morrow--

Sir _Cau_. I say ‘twas done like a wise Man, Sir; but under favour, Gentlemen, this _Wasteall_ is a Rascal--

_Noi_. A very Rascal, Sir, and a most dangerous Fellow--he cullies in your Prentices and Cashiers to play--which ruins so many o’th’ young Fry i’th’ City--

Sir _Cau_. Hum--does he so--d’ye hear that, _Edward_?

_Noi_. Then he keeps a private Press, and prints your _Amsterdam_ and _Leyden_ Libels.

Sir _Cau_. Ay, and makes ‘em too, I’ll warrant him; a dangerous Fellow--

_Noi_. Sometimes he begs for a lame Soldier with a wooden Leg.

_Bea_. Sometimes as a blind Man, sells Switches in _New-Market_ Road.

_Noi_. At other times he runs the Country like a Gipsey--tells Fortunes and robs Hedges, when he’s out of Linen.

Sir _Cau_. Tells Fortunes too!--nay, I thought he dealt with the Devil --Well, Gentlemen, you are all wide o’ this Matter--for to tell you the Truth--he deals with the Devil, Gentlemen --otherwise he could never have redeem’d his Land. [Aside.

_Bel_. How, Sir, the Devil!

Sir _Cau_. I say the Devil; Heaven bless every wise Man from the Devil.

_Bea_. The Devil, sha! there’s no such Animal in Nature; I rather think he pads.

_Noi_. Oh, Sir, he has not Courage for that--but he’s an admirable Fellow at your Lock.

Sir _Cau_. Lock! My Study-Lock was pickt--I begin to suspect him--

_Bea_. I saw him once open a Lock with the Bone of a Breast of Mutton, and break an Iron Bar asunder with the Eye of a Needle.

Sir _Cau_. Prodigious!--well, I say the Devil still.

_Enter Sir_ Feeble.

Sir _Feeb_. Who’s this talks of the Devil?--a Pox of the Devil, I say, this last night’s Devil has so haunted me--

Sir _Cau_. Why, have you seen it since, Brother?

Sir _Feeb_. In Imagination, Sir.

_Bel_. How, Sir, a Devil?

Sir _Feeb_. Ay, or a Ghost.

_Bel_. Where, good Sir?

_Bea_. Ay, where? I’d travel a hundred Mile to see a Ghost--

_Bel_. Sure, Sir, ‘twas Fancy.

Sir _Feeb_. If ‘twere a Fancy, ‘twas a strong one; and Ghosts and Fancy are all one if they can deceive. I tell you--if ever I thought in my Life--I thought I saw a Ghost--Ay, and a damnable impudent Ghost too; he said he was a--a Fellow here--they call _Bellmour_.

_Bel_. How, Sir!

_Bea_. Well, I wou’d give the world to see the Devil, provided he were a civil affable Devil, such an one as _Wasteall’s_ Acquaintance is--

Sir _Cau_. He can show him too soon, it may be. I’m sure as civil as he is, he helps him to steal my Gold, I doubt--and to be sure--Gentlemen, you say he’s a Gamester--I desire when he comes anon, that you wou’d propose to sport a Dye, or so--and we’ll fall to play for a Teaster, or the like--and if he sets any money, I shall go near to know my own Gold, by some remarkable Pieces amongst it; and if he have it, I’ll hang him, and then all his six hundred a Year will be my own, which I have in Mortgage.

_Bea_. Let the Captain and I alone to top upon him--mean time, Sir, I have brought my Musick, to entertain my Mistress with a Song.

Sir _Feeb_. Take your own methods, Sir--they are at leisure--while we go drink their Healths within. Adod, I long for night, we are not half in kelter, this damn’d Ghost will not out of my Head yet.

[_Exeunt all but_ Bellmour.

_Bel_. Hah--a Ghost! what can he mean? A Ghost, and _Bellmour’s_! --Sure my good Angel, or my Genius, In pity of my Love, and of _Leticia_-- But see _Leticia_ comes, but still attended--

_Enter_ Leticia, _Lady_ Fulbank, Diana.

--Remember--oh, remember to be true? [Aside to her, passing by goes out.

L. _Ful_. I was sick to know with what Christian Patience you bore the Martyrdom of this Night.

_Let_. As those condemn’d bear the last Hour of Life. A short Reprieve I had--and by a kind Mistake, _Diana_ only was my Bedfellow-- [_Weeps_.

_Dia_. And I wish for your Repose you ne’er had seen my Father. [_Weeps_.

_Let_. And so do I, I fear he has undone me--

_Dia_. And me, in breaking of his word with _Bredwel_--

L. _Ful_.--So--as _Trincolo_ says, wou’d you were both hang’d for me, for putting me in mind of my Husband. For I have e’en no better luck than either of you--Let our two Fates warn your approaching one: I love young _Bredwel_ and must plead for him.

_Dia_. I know his Virtue justifies my Choice: But Pride and Modesty forbids I shou’d unlov’d pursue him.

_Let_. Wrong not my Brother so, who dies for you--

_Dia_. Cou’d he so easily see me given away, Without a Sigh at parting? For all the day a Calm was in his Eyes, And unconcern’d he look’d and talk’d to me; In dancing never prest my willing Hand, Nor with a scornful Glance reproach’d my Falshood.

_Let_. Believe me, that Dissembling was his Master-piece.

_Dia_. Why should he fear, did not my Father promise him?

_Let_. Ay, that was in his wooing time to me: But now ‘tis all forgotten-- [_Musick at the door_.

_After which enter_ Bearjest _and_ Bredwel.

L. _Ful_. How now, Cousin! Is this high piece of Gallantry from you?

_Bea_. Ay, Madam, I have not travel’d for nothing--

L. _Ful_. I find my Cousin is resolv’d to conquer, he assails with all his Artillery of Charms; we’ll leave him to his success, Madam.--

[_Ex_. Leticia _and L_. Fulbank.

_Bea_. Oh Lord, Madam, you oblige me--look, _Ned_, you had a mind to have a full view of my Mistress, Sir, and--here she is. [_He stands gazing_. Go, salute her--look how he stands now; what a sneaking thing is a Fellow who has never travel’d and seen the World!--Madam--this is a very honest Friend of mine, for all he looks so simply.

_Dia_. Come, he speaks for you, Sir.

_Bea_. He, Madam! though he be but a Banker’s Prentice, Madam, he’s as pretty a Fellow of his Inches as any i’th’ City--he has made love in Dancing-Schools, and to Ladies of Quality in the middle Gallery, and shall joke ye--and repartee with any Fore-man within the Walls--prithee to her--and commend me, I’ll give thee a new Point Crevat.

_Dia_. He looks as if he cou’d not speak to me.

_Bea_. Not speak to you! yes, Gad, Madam, and do any thing to you too.

_Dia_. Are you his Advocate, Sir? [_In scorn_.

_Bea_. For want of a better-- [_Stands behind him, pushing him on_.

_Bred_. An Advocate for Love I am, And bring you such a Message from a Heart--

_Bea_. Meaning mine, dear Madam.

_Bred_. That when you hear it, you will pity it.

_Bea_. Or the Devil’s in her--

_Dia_. Sir, I have many Reasons to believe, It is my Fortune you pursue, not Person.

_Bea_. There is something in that, I must confess. [_Behind him_. But say what you will, _Ned_.

_Bred_. May all the Mischiefs of despairing Love Fall on me if it be.

_Bea_. That’s well enough--

_Bred_. No, were you born an humble Village-Maid, That fed a Flock upon the neighbouring Plain; With all that shining Vertue in your Soul, By Heaven, I wou’d adore you--love you--wed you-- Though the gay World were lost by such a Nuptial. [Bear. _looks on him_. --This--I wou’d do, were I my Friend the Squire [_Recollecting_.

_Bea_. Ay, if you were me--you might do what you pleas’d; but I’m of another mind.

_Dia_. Shou’d I consent, my Father is a Man whom Interest sways, not Honour; and whatsoever Promises he ‘as made you, he means to break ‘em all, and I am destin’d to another.

_Bea_. How, another--his Name, his Name, Madam--here’s _Ned_ and I fear ne’er a single Man i’th’ Nation, What is he--what is he?--

_Dia_. A Fop, a Fool, a beaten Ass--a Blockhead.

_Bea_. What a damn’d Shame’s this, that Women shou’d be sacrificed to Fools, and Fops must run away with Heiresses--whilst we Men of Wit and Parts dress and dance, and cock and travel for nothing but to be tame Keepers.

_Dia_. But I, by Heaven, will never be that Victim: But where my Soul is vow’d, ‘tis fix’d for ever.

_Bred_. Are you resolv’d, are you confirm’d in this? Oh my _Diana_, speak it o’er again. [_Runs to her, and embraces her_. Bless me, and make me happier than a Monarch.

_Bea_. Hold, hold, dear _Ned_--that’s my part, I take it.

_Bred_. Your Pardon, Sir, I had forgot my self. --But time is short--what’s to be done in this?

_Bea_. Done! I’ll enter the House with Fire and Sword, d’ye see, not that I care this--but I’ll not be fob’d off--what, do they take me for a Fool--an Ass?

_Bred_. Madam, dare you run the risk of your Father’s Displeasure, and run away with the Man you love?

_Dia_. With all my Soul--

_Bea_. That’s hearty--and we’ll do it--_Ned_ and I here--and I love an Amour with an Adventure in’t like _Amadis de Gaul_--Harkye, _Ned_, get a Coach and six ready to night when ‘tis dark, at the back Gate--

_Bred_. And I’ll get a Parson ready in my Lodging, to which I have a Key through the Garden, by which we may pass unseen.

_Bea_. Good--Mun, here’s Company--

_Enter_ Gayman _with his Hat and Money in’t, Sir_ Cautious _in a rage, Sir_ Feeble, _Lady_ Fulbank, Leticia, _Captain_ Noisey, Bellmour.

Sir _Cau_. A hundred Pound lost already! Oh Coxcomb, old Coxcomb, and a wise Coxcomb--to turn Prodigal at my Years, why, I was bewitcht!

Sir _Feeb_. Shaw, ‘twas a Frolick, Sir, I have lost a hundred Pound as well as you. My Lady has lost, and your Lady has lost, and the rest-- what, old Cows will kick sometimes, what’s a hundred Pound?

Sir _Cau_. A hundred Pound! why, ‘tis a sum, Sir--a sum--why, what the Devil did I do with a Box and Dice!

L. _Ful_. Why, you made a shift to lose, Sir? And where’s the harm of that? We have lost, and he has won; anon it may be your Fortune.

Sir _Cau_. Ay, but he could never do it fairly, that’s certain. Three hundred Pound! why, how came you to win so unmercifully, Sir?

_Gay_. Oh, the Devil will not lose a Gamester of me, you see, Sir.

Sir _Cau_. The Devil!--mark that, Gentlemen--

_Bea_. The Rogue has damn’d luck sure, he has got a Fly--

Sir _Cau_. And can you have the Conscience to carry away all our Money, Sir?

_Gay_. Most assuredly, unless you have the courage to retrieve it. I’ll set it at a Throw, or any way: what say you, Gentlemen?

Sir _Feeb_. Ods bobs, you young Fellows are too hard for us every way, and I’m engag’d at an old Game with a new Gamester here, who will require all an old Man’s stock.

L. _Ful_. Come, Cousin, will you venture a Guinea? Come, Mr. _Bredwel_.

_Gay_. Well, if no body dare venture on me, I’ll send away my Cash--

[_They all go to play at the Table, but Sir_ Cau. _Sir_ Feeb. _and_ Gay.

Sir _Cau_. Hum--must it all go?--a rare sum, if a Man were but sure the Devil wou’d but stand Neuter now-- [Aside. --Sir, I wish I had any thing but ready Money to stake: three hundred Pound--a fine Sum!

_Gay_. You have Moveables, Sir, Goods--Commodities--

Sir _Cau_. That’s all one, Sir; that’s Money’s worth, Sir: but if I had any thing that were worth nothing--

_Gay_. You wou’d venture it,--I thank you, Sir,--I wou’d your Lady were worth nothing--

Sir _Cau_. Why, so, Sir?

_Gay_. Then I wou’d set all this against that Nothing.

Sir _Cau_. What, set it against my Wife?

_Gay_. Wife, Sir! ay, your Wife--

Sir _Cau_. Hum, my Wife against three hundred Pounds! What, all my Wife, Sir?

_Gay_. All your Wife! Why, Sir, some part of her wou’d serve my turn.

Sir _Cau_. Hum--my Wife--why, if I shou’d lose, he cou’d not have the Impudence to take her. [Aside.

_Gay_. Well, I find you are not for the Bargain, and so I put up--

Sir _Cau_. Hold, Sir--why so hasty--my Wife? no--put up your Money, Sir--what, lose my Wife for three hundred Pounds!--

_Gay_. Lose her, Sir!--why, she shall be never the worse for my wearing, Sir--the old covetous Rogue is considering on’t, I think--What say you to a Night? I’ll set it to a Night--there’s none need know it, Sir.

Sir _Cau_. Hum--a Night!--three hundred Pounds for a Night! why, what a lavish Whore-master’s this! We take Money to marry our Wives, but very seldom part with ‘em, and by the Bargain get Money--For a Night, say you?--Gad, if I shou’d take the Rogue at his word, ‘twou’d be a pure Jest. [Aside.

Sir _Feeb_. You are not mad, Brother.

Sir _Cau_. No, but I’m wise--and that’s as good; let me consider.--

Sir _Feeb_. What, whether you shall be a Cuckold or not?

Sir _Cau_. Or lose three hundred Pounds--consider that. A Cuckold!--why, ’.is a word--an empty sound--’tis Breath--’tis Air--’tis nothing:--but three hundred Pounds--Lord, what will not three hundred Pounds do? You may chance to be a Cuckold for nothing, Sir--

Sir _Feeb_. It may be so--but she shall do’t discretly then.

Sir _Cau_. Under favour, you’re an Ass, Brother; this is the discreetest way of doing it, I take it.

Sir _Feeb_. But wou’d a wise man expose his Wife?

Sir _Cau_. Why, _Cato_ was a wiser Man than I, and he lent his Wife to a young Fellow they call’d _Hortensius_, as Story says; and can a wise Man have a better Precedent than _Cato_?

Sir _Feeb_. I say, _Cato_ was an Ass, Sir, for obliging any young Rogue of ’.m all.

Sir _Cau_. But I am of _Cato’s_ mind. Well, a single Night you say.

_Gay_. A single Night--to have--to hold--possess--and so forth, at discretion.

Sir _Cau_. A Night--I shall have her safe and sound i’th’ Morning.

Sir _Feeb_. Safe, no doubt on’t--but how sound.--

_Gay_. And for Non-performance, you shall pay me three hundred Pounds, I’ll forfeit as much if I tell--

Sir _Cau_. Tell?--why, make your three hundred pounds six hundred, and let it be put into the _Gazet_, if you will, Man.--But it’s a Bargain?

_Gay_. Done--Sir Feeble shall be witness--and there stands my Hat.

[_Puts down his Hat of Money, and each of em take a Box and Dice, and kneel on the Stage, the rest come about ‘em_.

Sir _Cau_. He that comes first to One and thirty wins--

[_They throw and count_.

L. _Ful_. What are you playing for?

Sir _Feeb_. Nothing, nothing--but a Trial of Skill between an old Man and a Young--and your Ladyship is to be Judge.

L. _Ful_. I shall be partial, Sir.

Sir _Cau_. Six and five’s Eleven-- [_Throws, and pulls the Hat towards him_.

_Gay_. Cater Tray--Pox of the Dice--

Sir _Cau_. Two fives--one and twenty-- [_Sets up, pulls the Hat nearer_.

_Gay_. Now, Luck--Doublets of sixes--nineteen.

Sir _Cau_. Five and four--thirty-- [_Draws the Hat to him_.

Sir _Feeb_. Now if he wins it, I’ll swear he has a Fly indeed--’tis impossible without Doublets of sixes--

_Gay_, Now Fortune smile--and for the future frown. [_Throws_.

Sir _Cau_.--Hum--two sixes-- [_Rises and looks dolefully round_.

L. _Ful_. How now? what’s the matter you look so like an Ass, what have you lost?

Sir _Cau_. A Bauble--a Bauble--’tis not for what I’ve lost--but because I have not won--

Sir _Feeb_. You look very simple, Sir--what think you of _Cato_ now?

Sir _Cau_. A wise Man may have his failings--

L. _Ful_. What has my Husband lost?--

Sir _Cau_. Only a small parcel of Ware that lay dead upon my hands, Sweet-heart.

_Gay_. But I shall improve ‘em, Madam, I’ll warrant you.

L. _Ful_. Well, since ‘tis no worse, bring in your fine Dancer, Cousin, you say you brought to entertain your Mistress with.

[Bearjest _goes out_.

_Gay_. Sir, you’ll take care to see me paid to Night?

Sir _Cau_. Well, Sir--but my Lady, you must know, Sir, has the common frailties of her Sex, and will refuse what she even longs for, if persuaded to’t by me.

_Gay_. ‘Tis not in my Bargain to sollicit her, Sir, you are to procure her--or three hundred pounds, Sir; chuse you whether.

Sir _Cau_. Procure her! with all my soul, Sir; alas, you mistake my honest meaning, I scorn to be so unjust as not to see you a-bed together; and then agree as well as you can, I have done my part--In order to this, Sir--get but your self conveyed in a Chest to my house, with a Direction upon’t for me; and for the rest--

_Gay_. I understand you.

Sir _Feeb_. _Ralph_, get supper ready.

_Enter_ Bea. _with Dancers; all go out but Sir_ Cautious.

Sir _Cau_. Well, I must break my Mind, if possible, to my Lady--but if she shou’d be refractory now--and make me pay Three hundred Pounds--why, sure she won’t have so little Grace--Three hundred Pounds sav’d, is three hundred pounds got--by our account--Cou’d All--

_Who of this City-Privilege are free, Hope to be paid for Cuckoldom like me; Th’unthriving Merchant, whom gray Hair adorns, Before all Ventures wou’d ensure his Horns; For thus, while he but lets spare Rooms to hire, His Wife’s cracked Credit keeps his own entire_.

[_Exit_.