The Works of Aphra Behn, Vol. III - Aphra Behn
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_Jul_. I find no fault with your sleeping, 'tis the best quality you
have a-bed.
_Fran_. Why so then, is the Devil in an unmerciful Woman? Come, come,
'tis a good Tenant that pays once a quarter.
_Jac_. Of an hour do you mean, Sir?--
_Fran_. Peace, I say--thou damnable Tormentor, this is the Doctrine you
preach to your Mistress, but you shall do't it private, for I'm resolv'd
to lock ye both up, and carry the Keys in my Pocket.
_Jul_. Well, I am a wicked Creature to teaze thee so, Dear; but I'll do
what thou wilt; come, come, be friends, I vow, I care not for the
Governor, not I, no more than I do for my--own Soul.
_Fran_. Why so, this is something; Come, come your ways in,--who have we
here? a Man! ad's my life, away, away.
_Jul_. Yes, up to my Chamber, to write an answer to this dear Letter.
[_Ex_ Julia.
_Enter_ Isabella.
_Fran_. No, 'tis not a Man, but my Daughter _Isabella_.
_Jac_. Now will I stay, and set her on to teaze the Dotard: wou'd I
could teaze him to Death, that my Mistress might be rid of him.
_Fran_. How now, what makes you look so scurvily to day? Sure the Devil
rides once a day through a Woman, that she may be sure to be inspired
with some ill Qualities--what wou'd you have now?
_Isa_. Something.
_Fran_. Something? what thing? have I not provided you a Husband whom
you are to marry within a day or two.
_Isa_. There's a Husband indeed, pray keep him to your self, if you
please; I'll marry none of him, I'll see him hanged first.
_Fran_. Hey day;--what, is he not young and handsome enough, forsooth?
_Isa_. Young and handsome; is there no more than that goes to the making
up of a Husband--Yes, there's Quality.
_Fran_. Quality!--Why, is he not one of the richest Merchants of his
standing in all _Cadiz_.
_Isa_. Merchant! a pretty Character! a Woman of my Beauty, and five
Thousand Pound, marry a Merchant--a little, petty, dirty-heel'd
Merchant; faugh, I'd rather live a Maid all the days of my life, or be
sent to a Nunnery, and that's Plague enough I'm sure.
_Jac_. Have a care of a Nunnery, lest he take you at your word.
_Isa_. I would not for the world; no, _Jacinta_, when ever thou seest me
in holy Orders, the World will be at an end.
_Fran_. Merchant! why, what Husband do you expect?
_Isa_. A Cavalier at least, if not a Nobleman.
_Fran_. A Nobleman, marry come up, your Father, Huswife, meaning my
self, was a Leather-seller at first, till, growing rich, I set up for a
Merchant, and left that mechanick Trade; and since turned Gentleman; and
Heav'n blest my Endeavours so as I have an Estate for a _Spanish_
Grandee; and, are you so proud, forsooth, that a Merchant won't down
with you, but you must be gaping after a Cap and Feather, a Silver Sword
with a more dreadful Ribbon at the hilt?--Come, come, I fear me,
Huswise, you are one that puff's her up with Pride thus;--but lay thy
hand upon thy Conscience now.-- [_To Jacinta_.
_Jac_. Who, I, Sir? No, no, I am for marrying her out of hand to any
reasonable Husband, except a Merchant; for Maids will long, and that's
_Probatum est_ against the prevailing distemper of Longing. Hitherto I
dare answer for her, but Batteries will be made, and I dare not be
always responsible for frail Mortality.
_Fran_. Well, I have provided her one that I like, but if she be so
squeamish, let her fast, with a Murrain to her.
_Isa_. Dear Father.
_Fran_. Dear me no Dears: wou'd your old Mother were alive, she wou'd
have strapt your Just-au-corps, for puleing after Cavaliers and
Nobleman, i'faith, that wou'd she; a Citizen's Daughter, and would be a
_Madona_--in good time.
_Isa. Why, Father, the Gentry and Nobility now-a-days frequently marry
Citizens Daughters.
_Fran_. Come, come, Mistress, I got by the City, and I love and honour
the City; I confess 'tis the Fashion now-a-days, if a Citizen get but a
little Money, one goes to building Houses, and brick Walls; another must
buy an Office for his Son, a third hoists up his Daughter's Topsail, and
flaunts it away, much above her breeding; and these things make so many
break, and cause the decay of Trading: but I am for the honest _Dutch_
way of breeding their Children, according to their Fathers Calling.
_Isa_. That's very hard, because you are a laborious, ill-bred
Tradesman, I must be bound to be a mean Citizen's Wife.
_Fran_. Why, what are you better than I, forsooth, that you must be a
Lady, and have your Petticoats lac'd four Stories high; wear your false
Towers, and cool your self with your _Spanish_ Fan? Come, come, Baggage,
wear me your best Clothes a Sunday, and brush 'em up a Monday Mornings,
and follow your Needle all the Week after; that was your good old
Mother's way, and your Grandmother's before her; and as for the Husband,
take no care about it, I have designed it _Antonio_, and _Antonio_ you
are like to wed, or beat the hoof, Gentlewoman, or turn poor _Clare_,
and die a begging Nun, and there's an end on't--see where he
comes--I'll leave you to ponder upon the business.
[_Exit_.]
_Enter_ Antonio. Isabella _weeps_.
_Ant_. What, in Tears, _Isabella?_ what is't can force that tribute from
your Eyes?
_Isa_. A Trifle, hardly worth the naming, your self.--
_Ant_. Do I? pray, for what Sin of mine must your fair Eyes be punish'd?
_Isa_. For the Sin of your odious Addresses to me, I have told you my
mind often enough, methinks your Equals should be fitter for you, and
sute more with your Plebeian Humour.
_Ant_. My Equals! 'Tis true, you are fair; but if there be any
Inequality in our births, the advantage is on my side.
_Isa_. Saucy Impertinent, you shew your City breeding; you understand
what's due to Ladys! you understand your Pen and Ink, how to count your
dirty Money, trudge to and fro chaffering of base commodities, and
cozening those you deal with, till you sweat and stink again like an
o'er heated Cook, faugh, I smell him hither.
_Ant_. I must confess I am not perfum'd as you are, to stifle Stinks you
commonly have by Nature; but I have wholesom, cleanly Linen on; and for
my Habit wore I but a Sword, I see no difference between your Don and
me, only, perhaps, he knows less how to use it.
_Isa_. Ah, name not a Don, the very sound from the Mouth of a little Cit
is disagreeable--Bargain and Sale, Bills, Money, Traffick, Trade, are
words become you better.
_Jac_. Well said, use him scurvily that Mrs. _Clara_ may have him.
[_Aside_.
_Ant_. The best of those you think I should not name, dare hardly tell
me this.
_Isa_. Good Lord, you think your self a very fine Fellow now, and
finical your self up to be thought so; but there's as much difference
between a Citizen and a true bred Cavalier--
_Ant_. As between you and a true bred Woman of Honour.
_Isa_. Oh, Sir, you rail, and you may long enough, before you rail me
out of my Opinion, whilst there are Dons with Coaches and fine Lackeys,
and I have Youth and Beauty, with a Fortune able to merit one, so
farewel, Cit.
[_Ex_.
_Ant_. Farewel, proud Fool.
_Jac_. Sir, be this Evening at the Door, Donna _Clara_ has something to
say to you.
_Ant_. Bless thee for this Tidings, dear _Jacinta_.
[_Ex_. Jacinta.
--I find let Man be brave, or good, or wise,
His Virtue gains no Smiles from Woman's Eyes;
'Tis the gay Fool alone that takes the Heart,
Foppery and Finery still guide the Dart.
[_Ex_.
ACT II.
SCENE I. _A Chamber_.
_Enter_ Jacinta _with a Light, and_ Julia.
_Jac_. Well, Madam, have you writ to Don _Carlos_?
_Jul_. No, nor is it possible I shou'd, this Devil haunts me so from
room to room, like my evil Genius to prevent that Good; oh, for an
opportunity of one kind Minute to return Acknowledgments for this kind
Letter he has sent me.
_Jac_. I'm glad you find me a Sybil: Madam, I ever prophesy'd a happier
end of that Amour than your ill Fortune has hitherto promised,--but what
said the lovely Cavalier?
_Jul_. All that a Man inspir'd with Love cou'd say, all that was soft
and charming.
_Jac_. Nay, I believe his Art.
_Jul_. Judge then what my Heart feels, which like a Fire but lightly
cover'd o'er with the cold Ashes of Despair, with the least blast breaks
out into a Flame; I burn, I burn, _Jacinta_, and only charming _Carlos_
can allay my Pain--but how? Ay, there's the question.
_Jac_. Some way I will contrive to speak with him, for he has lost his
old wont if he traverse not the Street where you live: but see Donna
_Clara_.--
_Enter_ Clara.
_Jul_. Hah, my Sister, whom yet my jealous heart can scarce be
reconciled to; so deeply was my fear of Rivalship fixt there,
--so sad, my Sister, and so near the happy day with _Carlos_?
_Cla_. 'Tis pity she that thinks it so shou'd want him; the Blessing's
thrown away on me, but we are both unhappy to be match'd to those we
cannot love. _Carlos_, though young, gay, handsom, witty, rich, I hate
as much as you the old _Francisco_; for since I cannot marry my
_Antonio_, both Youth and Beauty are but lost on me, and Age decrepid
would be equal torment.
_Jul_. Wou'd _Carlos_ knew your heart, sure he'd decline; for he has too
much Honor to compel a Maid to yield that loves him not.
_Cla_. 'Tis true, he is above me every way, and the Honor my Father
thinks to do our Family by this Match, makes him resolve upon't; but I
have given my Vows to young _Antonio_.
_Jul_. And young _Antonio_ you are like to have, for any thing that
_Carlos_ cares; for know, to thy eternal joy, my _Clara_, he has but
feigned to thee, as much as thy _Antonio_ to _Isabella_.
_Cla_. But are you sure of this?
_Jul_. Most certain; this Night if you can let _Antonio_ see you, he'll
tell you all the Cheat, and beg your Pardon.
_Cla_. Which he will soon obtain, and in return, what Service I can
render him in your behalf he shall not want.
_Jul_. _Antonio_ will engage you they are Friends.
_Cla_. You amaze me.
_Jac_. I have appointed him this night to wait, and, if possible, I
would get him a Minute's time with you.
_Cla_. Dear _Jacinta_, thou art the kindest Maid.--
_Jac_. Hang't, why should we young Women pine and languish for what our
own natural Invention may procure us; let us three lay our Heads
together, and if _Machiavel_ with all his Politicks can out-wit us, 'tis
pity but we all lead Apes in Hell, and die without the _Jewish_ Blessing
of Consolation.
_Jul_. No more, here comes the Dragon.
_Enter_ Francisco.
_Fran_. So, together consulting and contriving.
_Jac_. What, are you jealous of the Petticoat?
_Fran_. Petticoat! Come, come, Mistress _Pert_, I have known as much
danger hid under a Petticoat, as a pair of Breeches. I have heard of two
Women that married each other--oh abominable, as if there were so
prodigious a scarcity of Christian Mans Flesh.
_Jac_. No, the Market's well enough stored, thanks be praised, might
every Woman be afforded a reasonable Allowance.
_Fran_. Peace, I say, thou Imp of Lucifer; wou'd thou hadst thy
Bellyful, that I might be fairly rid of thee--go get you up to your
Chamber, and, d'ye hear, stir not from thence, on pain of our severe
displeasure, for I am sent for in all haste, to Signior Don
_Sebastian's_, 'tis but hard by, I shall soon return;--what, are
you here?
_Enter_ Isabella.
I have a high commendation of your fine Behaviour, Gentlewoman, to
_Antonio_; his Father has sent for me, and I shall know all anon, this
shall but hasten your Wedding, Huswise, I tell you that, and so farewel
to you--
[_Ex_. Isabella _crying_.
_Cla_. Say you so, then 'tis time for me to look about me.
_Jul_. But will you go out so late, Love? indeed some hurt will come
to thee.
_Fran_. No, look ye, I go arm'd. [_Shews his Girdle round with Pistols_.
Go, get you to your Chambers.
[_He goes out, they go in_.
SCENE II. _Changes to the Street_.
_Enter_ Carlos, Antonio.
_Car_. I wonder where this Man of mine should be, whom I sent this
Evening with my Letter to _Julia_. What art thou?
_Enter_ Guzman, _runs against_ Carlos.
_Guz_. My Lord, 'tis I, your trusty Trojan, _Guzman_.--what makes you
here, Sir, so near the Door of your Mistress?
_Car_. To wait my Doom; what Tidings hast thou, _Guzman_?
_Guz_. Why, Sir, I went as you directed me, to Don _Baltazer's_.
_Car_. And didst thou deliver it?
_Guz_. And the first thing I met with was old _Francisco_.
_Car_. So.
_Guz_. To whom I civilly addrest my self--told him, you presented your
Service to him,--sent to know how his Lady and he did. Which word Lady
I no sooner named, but I thought he would have saluted me with a
Cudgel,--in fine, observing her behind him, whom he shelter'd all he
could with his Cloke, I taking an occasion to whisper him, gave it her
over his shoulder, whilst she return'd some Smiles and Looks of
Joy,--but for an answer, 'twas impossible to get the least sign of one.
_Car_. No matter, that joy was evident she wisht me one, and by the
first opportunity my diligent waiting will be recompensed; but where
hast thou been all this while?
_Guz_. Finding out the Chimney-sweeper you spoke of, Sir, and whom you
ordered me to bring this Evening.
_Car_. And hast thou found him?
_Guz_. He's here, at the corner of the Street, I'll call him.
[Ex. Guz.
_Car_. I have, _Antonio_, besides your particular Revenge, one of my own
to act by this deceit, since all my Industry to see the charming _Julia_
has hitherto been vain, I have resolv'd upon a new project, if this
False Count pass upon 'em, as I doubt not but he will, and that he gets
admittance into the House, I'll pass for one of his Domesticks.
_Enter_ Guzman _and_ Guiliom. Page _holding his lanthorn to his face_.
_Guz_. Here's the Fellow, Sir.
_Ant_. Fellow! he may be the Devil's Fellow by his countenance.
_Car_. Come nearer, Friend; dost think thou canst manage a Plot well?
_Guil_. As any Man in _Cadiz_, Sir, with good instructions.
_Car_. That thou shalt have, thou art apprehensive.
_Guil_. So, so, I have a pretty memory for mischief.
_Ant_. Hast thou Assurance and Courage?
_Guil_. To kill the honestest Man in _Spain_, if I be well paid.
_Car_. That thou shalt be.
_Guil_. I'll do't, say no more, I'll do't.
_Car_. But canst thou swear stoutly, and lye handsomely.
_Guil_. Prettily, by Nature, Sir, but with good instructions I shall
improve; I thank Heaven I have Docity, or so.
_Car_. Thou want'st not Confidence.
_Guil_. No, nor Impudence neither; how should a man live in this wicked
world without that Talent?
_Ant_. Then know our Design is only comical, though if you manage not
Matters well, it may prove tragical to you; in fine, dost think thou
canst personate a Lord?
_Guil_. A Lord! marry, that's a hard question: but what sort of a Lord?
_Car_. Why, any Lord.
_Guil_. That I cannot do, but I can do some sort of a Lord, as some
Lords are wiser than other-some; there is your witty Lord,--him I defie;
your wise Lord, that is to say, your knavish Lord, him I renounce; then
there's your Politick Lord, him I wou'd have hang'd; then there's your
Foolish Lord, let him follow the Politician; then there's your brisk,
pert, noisy Lord, and such a small insignificant Fiend I care not if I
am possest with; I shall deal well enough with a Devil of his capacity.
_Car_. Very well, then there needs no more but that you go along with my
man to my house, my Authority shall secure you from all the injuries
that shall accrue from a discovery, but I hope none will happen:
Equipage, Clothes and Money we'll furnish you with.--Go home with him,
and dress, and practise the Don till we come, who will give you ample
instructions what to do.
_Guil_. And if I do not fit you with a Don better than _Don Del Phobos_,
or _Don Quixote_, let me be hang'd up for the Sign of the Black Boy on
my own Poles at a _Spanish_ Inn door.
_Ant_. We'll be with you presently.
_Guil_. And if you find me not en Cavalier, say Clothes, Garniture,
Points, and Feathers have lost their Power of making one.
[_Ex_. Guz. _and_ Page, _and_ Guil.
_Enter, opening the door_, Jacinta.
_Car_. Hah, the Door opens, and surely 'tis a Woman that advances: dear
_Antonio_, wait a little farther;--who's there?
_Jac_. Hah, if it should be old _Francisco_ now.
_Car_. Let it be who it will, I'll tell my name, it cannot injure
either;--I'm _Carlos_, who are you?
_Jac_. A thing that looks for him you name--_Jacinta_;--are you alone?
_Car_. Never since _Julia_ did possess my heart; what news, my dearest
Messenger of Love? what may I hope?--
_Enter_ Julia.
_Jul_. All that the kindest Mistress can bestow, If _Carlos_ loves, and
still will keep his Vows.
_Car_. _Julia_, my Life, my Soul, what happy Stars Conspir'd to give me
this dear lucky minute?
_Jul_. Those that conducted old _Francisco_ out,
And will too soon return him back again;
I dare not stay to hear thy love or chiding,
Both which have power to charm, since both proceed
From a kind heart, that's mine.
_Car_. Oh, take not this dear Body from my Arms,
For if you do, my Soul will follow it.
_Jul_. What would'st thou have me do?
_Car_. Be wondrous kind, be lavish of thy Heart,
Be generous in thy Love, and give me all.
_Jul_. Oh Heavens! what mean you? I shall die with fear.
_Car_. Fear! let coward Lovers fear, who love by halves,
We that intirely love are bold in Passion,
Like Soldiers fir'd with glory dread no Danger.
_Jul_. But should we be unthrifty in our Loves,
And for one Moment's joy give all away,
And be hereafter damn'd to pine at distance?
_Car_. Mistaken Miser, Love like Money put
Into good hands increases every day,
Still as you trust me, still the Sum amounts:
Put me not off with promise of to morrow,
To morrow will take care for new delights,
Why shou'd that rob us of a present one?
_Jul_. Ah, _Carlos_! How fondly do I listen to thy words,
And fain would chide, and fain wou'd boast my Virtue,
But mightier Love laughs at those poor delays;
And I should doubtless give you all your _Julia_,
Did not my fear prevent my kinder business;
--And should _Francisco_ come and find me absent,
Or take thee with me, we were lost, my _Carlos_.
_Car_. When then, my _Julia_, shall we meet again?
_Jul_. You _Spaniards_ are a jealous Nation,
But in this _English Spaniard_ Old _Francisco_,
That mad Passion's doubled; wholly deprives him of his Sense, and turns
his Nature Brute; wou'd he but trust me only with my Woman, I wou'd
contrive some way to see my _Carlos_.
_Car_. 'Tis certain, _Julia_, that thou must be mine.
_Jul_. Or I must die, my _Carlos_.
[Ant. _listning advances_.
_Ant_.--I'm sure 'tis _Carlos's_ voice, and with a Woman;
And though he be my Rival but in Jest,
I have a natural curiosity to see who 'tis he entertains.
_Jul_. Oh Heavens! Sir, here's _Francisco_; step aside,
Lest mischief shou'd befall you.
[_Runs in_.
_Car_. Now Love and wild Desire prompt me to kill this happy Rival,--
he's old, and can't be long in his Arrears to Nature.--What if I paid
the debt? [_Draws halfway_. One single push wou'd do't, and _Julia's_
mine;--but, hang't, Adultery is a less sin than Murder, and I will wait
my Fortune.--
_Ant_. Where are you,--Don _Carlos_?
_Car_. Who's there, _Antonio_? I took thee for my Rival, and ten to one
but I had done thy business.
_Ant_. I heard ye talking and believ'd you safe, and came in hopes to
get a little time to speak to _Clara_ in;--hah!--_Jacinta_--
_Jac_. Who's there, _Antonio_?
[_Peeping out of the door_.
_Ant_. The same; may I not speak with _Clara_?
_Jac_. Come in, she's here.--
_Car_. And prithee, dear _Jacinta_, let me have one word with _Julia_
more, she need not fear surprize; just at the door let me but kiss her
hand.
[_Going in_.
_Jac_. I'll see if I can bring her.--
_Enter_ Francisco.
_Fran_. A proud ungracious Flirt,--a Lord with a Pox! here's a fine
business, i'faith, that she should be her own Carver,--well I'll home,
and thunder her together with a vengeance.
_Car_. Who's here? sure this is he indeed; I'll step aside, lest my
being seen give him an occasion of jealousy, and make him affront his
Wife.
[_Goes aside as_ Fran. _was going in_.
_Enter_ Julia.
_Fran_. Hum, what have we here, a Woman?
_Jul_. Heavens! what, not gone yet, my Dear?
_Fran_. So, so, 'tis my confounded Wife, who expecting some body wou'd
have me gone now.
_Jul_. Are you not satisfied with all I've said,
With all the Vows I've made,
Which here anew, in sight of Heaven, I breathe?
_Fran_. Yes, yes, you can promise fair, but hang him that trusts ye.
_Jul_. Go, go, and pray be satisfyed with my eternal Love.--
_Fran_. How fain she'd have me gone now; ah, subtle Serpent! is not this
plain demonstration,--I shall murder her, I find the Devil great with
me. [_Aside still_.
_Jul_.--What is't thou pausest on?
_Fran_. The wicked Dissimulation of villainous Woman. [_Aloud to her_.
_Jul_. _Francisco!_
_Fran_. Oh thou Monster of Ingratitude, have I caught thee? You'd have
me gone, wou'd ye? ay, to Heaven, I believe, like a wicked Woman as you
are, so you were rid of me. Go,--and be satisfyed of my eternal love
--ah, Gipsey,--no, Gentlewoman, I am a tuff bit, and will hold you
tugging till your heart ake.
_Jul_. Why, was there such hurt in desiring you to go that you might
make haste back again,--Oh, my fears!
_Fran_. That you might receive a Lover,--'tis plain--and my
Indignation's high.
_Jul_. Heav'n knows I meant--
_Fran_. Only to cuckold me a little,--get you in,--where I will swear
thee by Bell, Book and Candle,--get you in, I say,--go, go,--I'll
watch for your Lover, and tell him how unkind he was to stay so long,
I will.--
[_Ex_. Julia, _he stands just in the door_, Carlos _advances_.
_Car_. I hear no noise, sure 'twas he,--and he's gone in--
To reap those Joys he knows not how to value,
And I must languish for; I'll stay a little--perhaps _Jacinta_ may
return again, for anything belonging to my _Julia_ is dear, even to
my Soul.
[_Goes just to the door_, Fran. _bolts out on him_.
_Fran_. Who's there?--what wou'd you have?--who wou'd you speak to?--who
do you come from?--and what's your business?
_Car_. Hah, 'tis the Sot himself;--my name is _Carlos_.
_Fran_. _Carlos_! what Father of _Belzebub_ sent him hither?--a plain
case;--I'll murder her out of hand.
_Car_.--And I wou'd speak to any body, Friend, that belongs to the fair
_Clara_,--if you are any of this house.
_Fran_. Only the Cuckold of the house, that's all;--my name, Sir, is
_Francisco_; but you, perhaps, are better acquainted with my Wife.
_Car_. _Francisco_, let me embrace you, my noble Brother, and chide you,
that you wou'd not visit me.
[_Going to embrace him, he flies off_.
_Fran_. And bring my Wife along with me.
_Car_. Both had been welcome--and all I have, you shou'd command.
_Fran_. For my Wife's sake--what if I shou'd pistol him now;--and I am
damnably provok'd to't, had I but Courage to shoot off one. [_Aside_.
_Car_. Methinks you make not so kind returns as my Friendship to you,
and the Alliance shall be between us, deserves.
_Fran_. I am something ill-bred, I confess, Sir;--'tis dark, and if I
shou'd do't no body wou'd know 'twas I. [_Aside_.
_Car_. I fear there's some Misunderstanding between us, pray let us go
in a while, I'll talk you from your error.
[_Offers to go, he gets between him and the door_.
_Fran_. Between us, Sir! oh Lord, not in the least, Sir, I love and
honour you so heartily--I'd be content to give you to the Devil, but the
noise of the Pistol wou'd discover the business. [_Aside_.
_Car_. Come, let's in, and talk a while.
_Fran_. I'm sorry I cannot do't, Sir, we are something incommoded being
not at our own house.
_Car_. Brother, I am afraid you are a little inclined to be jealous,
that will destroy all Friendship.--
_Fran_. So, how finely the Devil begins to insinuate!
_Car_. That makes a Hell of the Heav'n of Love, and those very Pains you
fear, are less tormenting than that Fear; what say you, Brother, is't
not so with you?
_Fran_. I find you wou'd have me turn a Husband of the Mode, a fine
convenient Tool, one of the modern Humour, a civil Person, that
understands Reason, or so; and I doubt not but you wou'd be as modish
a Gallant.
_Car_. Ha, ha, ha.
_Fran_. What, do you laugh, Sir?
_Car_. Who can chuse, to hear your Suspicions, your needless Fears.
Come, come, trust your Wife's Discretion, and Modesty--and I doubt not
but you will find your self--
_Fran_. In the Road to Heaven, whither they say all Cuckolds go--I thank
you for your advice; I perceive you wou'd willingly help me onwards of
my Journey.