Enter Ralph with Light, Sir Feeble, and Bellmour

Sir Feeb.  So, so, they’re gone—­Come, Francis, you shall have the Honour of undressing me for the Encounter; but ’twill be a sweet one, Francis.

Bel.  Hell take him, how he teazes me! [Undressing all the while.

Sir Feeb.  But is the young Rogue laid, Francis—­is she stoln to Bed?  What Tricks the young Baggages have to whet a man’s Appetite?

Bel.  Ay, Sir—­Pox on him—­he will raise my Anger up to Madness, and I shall kill him to prevent his going to Bed to her. [Aside.

Sir Feeb.  A pise of those Bandstrings—­the more haste the less speed.

Bel.  Be it so in all things, I beseech thee, Venus.

Sir Feeb.  Thy aid a little, Francis—­oh, oh—­thou choakest me, ’sbobs, what dost mean? [Pinches him by the Throat.

Bel.  You had so hamper’d ’em, Sir—­the Devil’s very mischievous in me. [Aside.

Sir Feeb.  Come, come, quick, good Francis, adod, I’m as yare as a Hawk at the young Wanton—­nimbly, good Francis, untruss, untruss.

Bel.  Cramps seize ye—­what shall I do? the near Approach distracts me. [Aside.

Sir Feeb.  So, so, my Breeches, good Francis.  But well, Francis, how dost think I got the young Jade my Wife?

Bel.  With five hundred pounds a year Jointure, Sir.

Sir Feeb.  No, that wou’d not do, the Baggage was damnably in love with a young Fellow they call Bellmour, a handsome young Rascal he was, they say, that’s truth on’t; and a pretty Estate:  but happening to kill a Man he was forced to fly.

Bel.  That was great pity, Sir.

Sir Feeb.  Pity! hang him, Rogue, ’sbobs, and all the young Fellows in the Town deserve it; we can never keep our Wives and Daughters honest for rampant young Dogs; and an old Fellow cannot put in amongst ’em, under being undone, with Presenting, and the Devil and all.  But what dost think I did? being damnably in love—­I feign’d a Letter as from the Hague, wherein was a Relation of this same Bellmour’s being hang’d.

Bel.  Is’t possible, Sir, you cou’d devise such News?

Sir Feeb.  Possible, Man!  I did it, I did it; she swooned at the News, shut her self up a whole Month in her Chamber; but I presented high:  she sigh’d and wept, and swore she’d never marry:  still I presented; she hated, loathed, spit upon me; still, adod, I presented, till I presented my self effectually in Church to her; for she at last wisely considered her Vows were cancell’d, since Bellmour was hang’d.

Bel.  Faith, Sir, this was very cruel, to take away his Fame, and then his Mistress.

Sir Feeb.  Cruel! thou’rt an Ass, we are but even with the brisk Rogues, for they take away our Fame, cuckold us, and take away our Wives:  so, so, my Cap, Francis.