Very pretty; it seems that I am conducting to my own cuckoldom. Why,
this is the very traitorous position of taking up arms by my authority,
against my person! Well, let me see. Till then I languish in
expectation of my adored charmer.--Dying Ned Careless. Gads-bud, would
that were matter of fact too. Die and be damned for a Judas Maccabeus
and Iscariot both. O friendship! what art thou but a name? Henceforward
let no man make a friend that would not be a cuckold: for whomsoever he
receives into his bosom will find the way to his bed, and there return
his caresses with interest to his wife. Have I for this been pinioned,
night after night for three years past? Have I been swathed in blankets
till I have been even deprived of motion? Have I approached the marriage
bed with reverence as to a sacred shrine, and denied myself the enjoyment
of lawful domestic pleasures to preserve its purity, and must I now find
it polluted by foreign iniquity? O my Lady Plyant, you were chaste as
ice, but you are melted now, and false as water. But Providence has been
constant to me in discovering this conspiracy; still, I am beholden to
Providence. If it were not for Providence, sure, poor Sir Paul, thy
heart would break.

SCENE X.

[_To him_] LADY PLYANT.

LADY PLYANT. So, sir, I see you have read the letter. Well, now, Sir
Paul, what do you think of your friend Careless? Has he been
treacherous, or did you give his insolence a licence to make trial of
your wife's suspected virtue? D'ye see here? [_Snatches the letter as
in anger_.] Look, read it. Gads my life, if I thought it were so, I
would this moment renounce all communication with you. Ungrateful
monster! He? is it so? Ay, I see it, a plot upon my honour; your guilty
cheeks confess it. Oh, where shall wronged virtue fly for reparation?
I'll be divorced this instant.

SIR PAUL. Gads-bud, what shall I say? This is the strangest surprise.
Why, I don't know anything at all, nor I don't know whether there be
anything at all in the world, or no.

LADY PLYANT. I thought I should try you, false man. I, that never
dissembled in my life, yet to make trial of you, pretended to like that
monster of iniquity, Careless, and found out that contrivance to let you
see this letter, which now I find was of your own inditing--I do,
heathen, I do. See my face no more; I'll be divorced presently.

SIR PAUL. O strange, what will become of me? I'm so amazed, and