Sir _Cred._ A Pox of his Compliment. Why, this is worse than t'other.--What shall I do in this case?--should I speak and undeceive them, they would swear 'twere to save my Jems: and to part with 'em--Zoz, how simply should I look!--but hang't, when I have married her, they are my own again.
[Gives the Rings, and falls back into Grimaces. _Leander_ whispers to _Lodwick_.
_Lod._ Enough--Then, Sister, she has sent you a Purse of her own knitting full of Broad Gold.
Sir. _Cred._ Broad Gold! why, what a Pox does the Man conjure?
_Lod._ Which, Sister, faith, you must accept of, you see by that Grimace how much 'twill grieve him else.
Sir _Cred._ A pretty civil way this to rob a Man.--Why, _Lodwick_,--why, what a Pox, will they have no mercy?--Zoz, I'll see how far they'll drive the Jest.
[Gives the Gold and bows, and scrapes and screws.
_Lod._ Say you so, Sir? well I'll see what may be done.--Sister, behold him, and take pity on him; he has but one more humble request to make you, 'tis to receive a Gold Watch which he designs you from himself.
Sir _Cred._ Why, how long has this Fellow been a Conjurer? for he does deal with the Devil, that's certain,--_Lodwick_-- [Pulls him.
_Lod._ Ay do, speak and spoil all, do.
Sir _Cred._ Speak and spoil all, quoth he! and the Duce take me if I am not provok'd to't; why, how the Devil should he light slap-dash, as they say, upon every thing thus? Well, Zoz, I'm resolv'd to give it her, and shame her if she have any Conscience in her.
[Gives his Watch with pitiful Grimaces.
_Lod._ Now, Sister, you must know there's a Mystery in this Watch, 'tis a kind of Hieroglyphick that will instruct you how a Married Woman of your Quality ought to live.
Sir _Cred._ How, my Watch Mysteries and Hieroglyphicks! the Devil take me, if I knew of any such Virtues it had.
[They are all looking on the Watch.
_Lod._ Beginning at Eight, from which down to Twelve you ought to imploy in dressing, till Two at Dinner, till Five in Visits, till Seven at the Play, till Nine i'th' Park, Ten at Supper with your Lover, if your Husband be not at home, or keep his distance, which he's too well bred not to do; then from Ten to Twelve are the happy Hours the Bergere, those of intire Enjoyment.--
Sir _Cred._ Say you so? hang me if I shall not go near to think I may chance to be a Cuckold by the shift.
_Isab._ Well, Sir, what must she do from Twelve till Eight again?
_Lod._ Oh! those are the dull Conjugal Hours for sleeping with her own Husband, and dreaming of Joys her absent Lover alone can give her.
Sir _Cred._ Nay, an she be for Sleeping, Zoz, I am as good at that as she can be for her Heart; or Snoring either.
_Lod._ But I have done; Sir _Credulous_ has a dumb Oration to make you by way of farther Explanation.
Sir _Cred._ A dumb Oration! now do I know no more how to speak a dumb Speech than a Dog.
_Luc._ Oh, I love that sort of Eloquence extremely.
_Lod._ I told you this would take her.
Sir _Cred._ Nay, I know your silent Speeches are incomparable, and I have such a Speech in my Head.
_Lod._ Your Postures, your Postures, begin, Sir.
[He puts himself into a ready Posture as if he would speak, but only makes Faces.
Enter _Page_.
_Pag._ Sir, my Lady desires to speak with you. [To _Lean._
_Lean._ I'll wait on her,--a Devil on't.--
_Pag._ I have command to bring you, Sir, instantly.
_Lean._ This is ill luck, Madam, I cannot see the Farce out; I'll wait on you as soon as my good Fortune will permit me.
[Exit with _Page_.
_Luc._ He's going to my Mother, dear _Isabella_, let's go and hinder their Discourse: Farewel, Sir Ambassador, pray remember us to _Psyche_, not forgetting the little blind Archer, ha, ha, ha.--
[Ex. _Lucr._ and _Isab._ laughing.
Sir _Cred._ So, I have undone all, they are both gone, flown I protest; why, what a Devil ail'd em? Now have I been dumb all this while to no purpose, you too never told her my meaning right; as I hope to breathe, had any but yourself done this, I should have sworn by _Helicon_ and all the rest of the Devils, you had had a design to have abus'd me, and cheated me of all my Moveables too.
_Lod._ What a hopeful Project was here defeated by my mistake! but courage, Sir _Credulous_, I'll put you in a way shall fetch all about again.
Sir _Cred._ Say you so? ah, dear _Lodwick_, let me hear it.
_Lod._ Why, you shall this Night give your Mistress a Serenade.
Sir _Cred._ How! a Serenade!
_Lod._ Yes, but it must be perform'd after an Extravagant manner, none of your dull amorous Night-walking Noises so familiar in this Town; _Lucretia_ loves nothing but what's great and extravagant, and passes the reach of vulgar practice.
Sir _Cred._ What think you of a silent Serenade? Zoz, say but the word and it shall be done, Man, let me alone for Frolicks, i'faith.
_Lod._ A silent one! no, that's to wear a good humour to the Stumps; I wou'd have this want for no Noise; the extremes of these two Addresses will set off one another.
Sir _Cred._ Say you so? what think you then of the Bagpipe, Tongs, and Gridiron, Cat-calls, and loud-sounding Cymbals?
_Lod._ Naught, naught, and of known use; you might as well treat her with Viols and Flute-doux, which were enough to disoblige her for ever.
Sir _Cred._ Why, what think you then of the King of _Bantam's_ own Musick.
_Lod._ How! the King of _Bantam's_ Musick?
Sir _Cred._ Ay, Sir, the King of _Bantam's_: a Friend of mine had a Present sent him from thence, a most unheard of curiosity I'll assure you.
_Lod._ That, that by all means, Sir.
Sir _Cred._ Well, I'll go borrow 'em presently.
_Lod._ You must provide your self of a Song.
Sir _Cred._ A Song! hang't, 'tis but rummaging the Play-Books, stealing thence is lawful Prize--Well, Sir, your Servant.
[Exit.