LAETITIA and FONDLEWIFE haling out BELLMOUR.
FOND.Come out here, thou Ananias incarnate.Who, how now! Who have we here?
LAET.Ha! [Shrieks as surprised.]
FOND.Oh thou salacious woman! Am I then brutified? Ay, I feel it here; I sprout, I bud, I blossom, I am ripe-horn-mad.But who in the devil's name are you? Mercy on me for swearing.But -LAET.Oh! goodness keep us! Who are you? What are you?
BELL.Soh!
LAET.In the name of the--O! Good, my dear, don't come near it;I'm afraid 'tis the devil; indeed, it has hoofs, dear.
FOND.Indeed, and I have horns, dear.The devil, no, I am afraid 'tis the flesh, thou harlot.Dear, with the pox.Come Syren, speak, confess, who is this reverend, brawny pastor.
LAET.Indeed, and indeed now, my dear Nykin, I never saw this wicked man before.
FOND.Oh, it is a man then, it seems.
LAET.Rather, sure it is a wolf in the clothing of a sheep.
FOND.Thou art a devil in his proper clothing--woman's flesh.
What, you know nothing of him, but his fleece here! You don't love mutton? you Magdalen unconverted.
BELL.Well, now, I know my cue.--That is, very honourably to excuse her, and very impudently accuse myself.[Aside.]
LAET.Why then, I wish I may never enter into the heaven of your embraces again, my dear, if ever I saw his face before.
FOND.O Lord! O strange! I am in admiration of your impudence.
Look at him a little better; he is more modest, I warrant you, than to deny it.Come, were you two never face to face before? Speak.
BELL.Since all artifice is vain.And I think myself obliged to speak the truth in justice to your wife.--No.
FOND.Humph.
LAET.No, indeed, dear.
FOND.Nay, I find you are both in a story; that I must confess.
But, what--not to be cured of the colic? Don't you know your patient, Mrs.Quack? Oh, 'lie upon your stomach; lying upon your stomach will cure you of the colic.' Ah! answer me, Jezebel?
LAET.Let the wicked man answer for himself: does he think I have nothing to do but excuse him? 'tis enough if I can clear my own innocence to my own dear.
BELL.By my troth, and so 'tis.I have been a little too backward; that's the truth on't.
FOND.Come, sir, who are you, in the first place? And what are you?
BELL.A whore-master.
FOND.Very concise.
LAET.O beastly, impudent creature.
FOND.Well, sir, and what came you hither for?
BELL.To lie with your wife.
FOND.Good again.A very civil person this, and I believe speaks truth.
LAET.Oh, insupportable impudence.
FOND.Well, sir; pray be covered--and you have--Heh! You have finished the matter, heh? And I am, as I should be, a sort of civil perquisite to a whore-master, called a cuckold, heh? Is it not so? Come, I'm inclining to believe every word you say.
BELL.Why, faith, I must confess, so I designed you; but you were a little unlucky in coming so soon, and hindered the making of your own fortune.
FOND.Humph.Nay, if you mince the matter once and go back of your word you are not the person I took you for.Come, come, go on boldly.--What, don't be ashamed of your profession.--Confess, confess; I shall love thee the better for't.I shall, i'feck.
What, dost think I don't know how to behave myself in the employment of a cuckold, and have been three years apprentice to matrimony? Come, come; plain dealing is a jewel.
