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Go to More of your Love, and less of your Ceremony give the old Fool a hearty buss, and pay him that way he, ye little wanton Tit, I'll steal up and catch ye and love ye adod, I will get ye gone get ye gone. Let. Leticia and Diana. Sir Cau. How, steal up, Sir Feeble I hope not so; I hold it most indecent before the lawful hour. Sir Feeb. Lawful hour!
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. 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. Sir Feeb. A pise of those Bandstrings the more haste the less speed. Bel. Be it so in all things, I beseech thee, Venus.
To Bed, Sir! what, by Day-light? for that's hasting on I wou'd not for the World the Night wou'd hide my Blushes but the Day wou'd let me see my self in your Embraces. Sir Feeb. Embraces, in a Fiddlestick; why, are we not married? Let. 'Tis true, Sir, and Time will make me more familiar with you, but yet my Virgin Modesty forbids it. I'll to Diana's Chamber, the Night will come again. Sir Feeb.
Sir Cau. Sir Feeb. 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.
It's a wonder the drooling ward didn't break down while I was in hospital. I could get out of here if I wanted to. I'm not so feeble as some might think. But I don't let on. I have too good a time. Besides, everything would run down if I went away. I'm afraid some time they'll find out I'm not a feeb and send me out into the world to earn my own living. I know the world, and I don't like it.
But I'm a high-grade feeb. Dr. Dalrymple says I'm too smart to be in the Home, but I never let on. It's a pretty good place. And I don't throw fits like lots of the feebs. You see that house up there through the trees. The high-grade epilecs all live in it by themselves. They're stuck up because they ain't just ordinary feebs.
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? 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.
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!
So I coaxed 'em out here where they could lead the wild, free life. Kind of sad and pathetic, almost, they was. The fat one I found was just a kind of natural-born one a feeb you understand and the old one had a scar that the doctor said explained him all right you must have noticed it up over his temple. It's where his old man laid him out once, when he was a kid, with a stovelifter.
I reckon there never was a woman yet outside of a feeb' home that didn't believe she could be an A. No. 1 siren if she only had the nerve to dress the part; never one that didn't just ache to sway men to her lightest whim, and believe she could not for any evil purpose, mind you, but just to show her power.
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