Bel.  Answer me first, what makes you here this Morning?

Gay.  Faith, to do you service.  Your damn’d little Jade of a Mistress has learned of her Neighbours the Art of Swearing and Lying in abundance, and is—­

Bel.  To be married! [Sighing.

Gay.  Even so, God save the Mark; and she’ll be a fair one for many an Arrow besides her Husband’s, though he an old Finsbury Hero this threescore Years.

Bel.  Who mean you?

Gay.  Why, thy Cuckold that shall be, if thou be’st wise.

Bel.  Away; Who is this Man? thou dalliest with me.

Gay.  Why, an old Knight, and Alderman here o’th’ City, Sir Feeble Fainwou’d, a jolly old Fellow, whose Activity is all got into his Tongue, a very excellent Teazer; but neither Youth nor Beauty can grind his Dudgeon to an Edge.

Bel.  Fie, what Stuff’s here!

Gay.  Very excellent Stuff, if you have but the Grace to improve it.

Bel.  You banter me—­but in plain English, tell me, What made you here thus early, Entring yon House with such Authority?

Gay.  Why, your Mistress Leticia, your contracted Wife, is this Morning to be married to old Sir Feeble Fainwou’d, induc’d to’t I suppose by the great Jointure he makes her, and the improbability of your ever gaining your Pardon for your high Duel—­Do I speak English now, Sir?

Bel.  Too well, would I had never heard thee.

Gay.  Now I being the Confident in your Amours, the Jack-go-between—­ the civil Pimp or so—­you left her in charge with me at your Departure.

Bel.  I did so.

Gay.  I saw her every day; and every day she paid the Tribute of a shower of Tears, to the dear Lord of all her Vows, young Bellmour:  Till faith at last, for Reasons manifold, I slackt my daily Visits.

Bel.  And left her to Temptation—­was that well done?

Gay.  Now must I afflict you and my self with a long tale of Causes why; Or be charg’d with want of Friendship.

Bel.  You will do well to clear that Point to me.

Gay.  I see you’re peevish, and you shall be humour’d.—­You know my Julia play’d me e’en such another Prank as your false one is going to play you, and married old Sir Cautious Fulbank here i’th’ City; at which you know I storm’d, and rav’d, and swore, as thou wo’t now, and to as little purpose.  There was but one way left, and that was cuckolding him.

Bel.  Well, that Design I left thee hot upon.

Gay.  And hotly have pursu’d it:  Swore, wept, vow’d, wrote, upbraided, prayed and railed; then treated lavishly, and presented high—­till, between you and I, Harry, I have presented the best part of Eight hundred a year into her Husband’s hands, in Mortgage.