ir _Tim_. And I to meet a Whore, and now we are well met.

_Flaunt_. How, Sir?

Sir _Tim_. Nay, never be surpriz'd, for your Intrigues are discover'd,
the good Matron of the House (against her Will) has done me that
kindness--you know how to live without your Keeper, and so I'll
leave you.

_Flaunt_. You're too serviceable a Fool to be lost so. [_Aside_.

_Bel_. Who knows this bold Intruder?

_Char_. How, Sir, am I a Stranger to you? But I shou'd wonder at it,
since all your last Night's Actions betray'd a strange depravity of
Sense.--Sir, I have sought you long, and wish I had not found you yet,
since both the Place and Company declare, how grossly you've dissembled
Virtue all this while.

_Bel_. Take hence that prating Boy.

_Char_. How, Sir--You are my elder Brother, yet I may be allow'd to do
the Business that I came for, and from my Uncle to demand your Wife.

_Bel_. You may return, and tell him that she's dead.

_Char_. Dead! sure, Sir, you rave.
[_Turns him about_.

_Bel_. Indeed I do--but yet she's dead, they say.

_Char_. How came she dead?

_Bel_. I kill'd her--ask no more, but leave me.
[_Turns him about again_.

_Char_. Sir, this is Madman's Language, and not to be believed.

_Bel_. Go to--y'are a saucy Boy.

_Char_. Sir, I'm an angry Boy--
But yet can bear much from a Brother's Mouth;
Y'ave lost your sleep: pray, Sir, go home and seek it.

_Bel_. Home! I have no Home, unless thou mean'st my Grave,
And thither I cou'd wish thou wou'd conduct me. [_Weeps_.

_Flaunt_. Pray Heaven this young virtuous Fellow don't spoil all.
--Sir, shall I send for a Scrivener to draw the Settlement you
promis'd me?

_Bel_. Do so, and I'll order him to get it ready.

_Char_. A Settlement! On whom? This Woman, Sir?

_Bel_. Yes, on this Woman, Sir.

_Char_. Are you stark mad?--Know you where you are?

_Bel_. Yes, in a Baudy-house.

_Char_. And this Woman, Sir.--

_Bel_. A very Whore--a tawdry mercenary Whore!
And what of this?

_Char_. And can you love her, Sir?

_Bel_. No, if I did, I wou'd not gratify her.

_Char_. What, is't in Charity to keep her honest?

_Bel_. Neither.

_Char_. Is your Lust grown so high--

_Bel_. Take that-- [_Strikes him_.
For naming but so base a thing to me.

_Char_. I wear a Sword, but not to draw on Mad-men. But since y'are so
free, Sir, I demand that Fortune, which by my Father's Will y'a