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I humbly thank your Ladyship. Gay. I'm glad thou hast her, Harry; but doubt thou durst not own her; nay dar'st not own thy self. Bel. Yes, Friend, I have my Pardon But hark, I think we are pursu'd already But now I fear no force. L. Ful. However, step into my Bed-chamber. Enter Sir Feeble in an Antick manner. Sir Feeb. Sir Cau. How lash my filthy Carcase? I defy thee, Satan Sir Feeb.
Why, know you then who did it? Oh, how I'd be reveng'd upon the Rascal! Sir Feeb. 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? Sir Cau. My Watch; I thank you, Sir but why Pimp, Sir? Sir Feeb.
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. 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.
Enough, enough, Sir Cautious, we apprehend one another. Mr. Bearjest, your Uncle here and I have struck the Bargain, the Wench is yours with three thousand Pound present, and something more after Death, which your Uncle likes well. Bea. Does he so, Sir? I'm beholding to him; then 'tis not a Pin matter whether I like or not, Sir. Sir Feeb. How, Sir, not like my Daughter Dye? Bea.
Hold, honest Francis: What, dost think 'twas in kindness to him! No, you Fool, I got his Pardon my self, that no body else should have it, so that if he gets any body to speak to his Majesty for it, his Majesty cries he has granted it; but for want of my appearance, he's defunct, trust up, hang'd, Francis. Bel. This is the most excellent revenge I ever heard of. Sir Feeb.
Let. Sir Feeb. Say thy Prayers! What, art thou mad! Prayers upon thy Wedding-night! a short Thanksgiving or so but Prayers quoth a 'Sbobs, you'll have time enough for that, I doubt Le. I am asham'd to undress before you, Sir; go to Bed Sir Feeb. What, was it asham'd to shew its little white Foots, and its little round Bubbies well, I'll go, I'll go I cannot think on't, no I cannot Bel. Stand
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.
The Home is fine enough for me. You see how I grin sometimes. I can't help that. But I can put it on a lot. I'm not bad, though. I look at myself in the glass. My mouth is funny, I know that, and it lops down, and my teeth are bad. You can tell a feeb anywhere by looking at his mouth and teeth. But that doesn't prove I'm a feeb. It's just because I'm lucky that I look like one. I know a lot.
What sayst thou, Throat cut? Bel. Why, the City's up in Arms, Sir, and all the Aldermen are met at Guild-Hall; some damnable Plot, Sir. Sir Feeb. Hah Plot the Aldermen met at Guild-Hall! hum why, let 'em meet, I'll not lose this Night to save the Nation. Let. Wou'd you to bed, Sir, when the weighty Affairs of State require your Presence? Sir Feeb.
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