[_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.
_Car_. I'm glad I know you, Sir,--farewel to you-- [_Goes out_.
_Fran_. No matter for that, so you know not my Wife--and so farewel to you, Sir, and, the Devil take all Cuckoldmakers.
[_Exit_.
SCENE III. _The inside of the House_.
_Enter_ Clara, Julia, Antonio, Jacinta _running to 'em_.
_Jac_. He has seen Don _Carlos_, and they have been in great discourse together, I cou'd not hear one word, but you'll have it at both ears anon, I'll warrant you. Ha, he's coming.
_Enter_ Francisco.
_Cla_. Heavens, he must not see you here. [_To_ Ant.
_Jac_. Here, step into _Clara's_ Bed-chamber. [_He goes in_.
_Fran_. So the Plot's at last discover'd,--he was a Cavalier of his Parole.
_Jul_. Who speak you of?
_Fran_. Only the Governor, the fine young Governor, I deliver'd him the message, told him my mind and the like.
_Jul_. So kind to visit us, and have you sent him away already?
_Fran_. Ah, Witch; already! why, have I any lodging for him?
_Jul_. But I am glad you brought him not in, I being so unready.
_Fran_. But you are always ready for him, my dear victorious Man-slayer.
_Jul_. What means he, sure he has a Gad-bee in his Brain.
_Fran_. Satan's she Advocate--peace, I say;--so, you look as innocently now, as a little Devil of two years old, I'll warrant;--come, come, look me full in the face--thus,--turn your nose just to mine--so--now tell me whose damnable Plot this was, to send your Gallant with his Eloquence, Querks and Conundrums, to tutor me into better manners?
_Jul_. Send him! I'll answer no such idle questions.
_Fran_. He has taken a world of pains about your particular Chapter, and no doubt but he preach'd according to instructions;--what say you for your self, that Judgment may not pass?
_Jul_. I say you're an old jealous Fool; have I seen Don _Carlos_, or heard from Don _Carlos_, or sent to Don _Carlos_? here's a-do indeed.
_Fran_. What made you at the door against my positive commands,--the very Street-door,--in the night,--alone,--and undrest,--this is a matter of Fact, Gentlewoman; you hastened me away,--a plain case,--and presently, after Don _Carlos_ comes to the door,--positive proof,--sees me and falls right down upon my Jealousy,--clear conviction,--'twas pity but I had follow'd his counsel, yes, when the Devil turns student in Divinity;--but no matter, I'll see your back fairly turn'd upon this Town to morrow; I'll marry my Daughter in the morning to _Antonio_, and a fair wind or not, we'll home; the Gally lies ready in the Harbour-- therefore prepare, pack up your tools, for you are no woman of this world.
_Ant_. How! marry me to morrow to his daughter;--and carry his Wife from my Friend; this misfortune must be prevented. [_Aside peeping_.