his Gentlewoman has been at
Hot-Cockles without her Husband, and he's Horn-mad upon't. I suspected
her being so close in with his Nephew--in a Fit with a Pox--[_Aside_.]
Come, come, Sir _Feeble_, 'tis many an honest Man's Fortune.

Sir _Feeb_. I grant it, Sir--but to the business, Sir, I came for.

Sir _Cau_. With all my Soul--

[_They sit gaping, and expecting when either should speak.
Enter_ Bredwel _and_ Gayman _at the door_. Bredwel _sees them,
and puts_ Gayman_ back again_.

_Bred_. Hah--Sir _Feeble_, and Sir _Cautious_ there--what shall I do?
For this way we must pass, and to carry him back wou'd discover my Lady
to him, betray all, and spoil the Jest--retire, Sir, your Life depends
upon your being unseen. [_Go out_.

Sir _Feeb_. Well, Sir, do you not know that I am married, Sir? and this
my Wedding Night?

Sir _Cau_. Very good, Sir.

Sir _Feeb_. And that I long to be in bed?

Sir _Cau_. Very well, Sir.

Sir _Feeb_. Very good, Sir, and very well, Sir--why then what the Devil
do I make here, Sir? [_Rises in a rage_.

Sir _Cau_. Patience, Brother--and forward.

Sir _Feeb_. Forward! lend me your hand, good Brother; let's feel your
Pulse; how has this Night gone with you?

Sir _Cau_. Ha, ha, ha--this is the oddest Quonudrum--sure he's mad--and
yet now I think on't, I have not slept to night, nor shall I ever sleep
again, till I have found the Villain that robb'd me. [_Weeps_.

Sir _Feeb_. So, now he weeps--far gone--this Laughing and Weeping is a
very bad sign! [_Aside_.] Come, let me lead you to your Bed.

Sir _Cau_. Mad, stark mad--no, now I'm up 'tis no matter--pray ease your
troubled Mind--I am your Friend--out with it--what, was it acted? or
but designed?

Sir _Feeb_. How, Sir?

Sir _Cau_. Be not asham'd, I'm under the same Premunire I doubt, little
better than a--but let that pass.

Sir _Feeb_. Have you any Proof?

Sir _Cau_. Proof of what, good Sir?

Sir _Feeb_. Of what! why, that you're a Cuckold; Sir, a Cuckold, if
you'll ha't.

Sir _Cau_. Cuckold! Sir, do ye know what ye say?

Sir _Feeb_. What I say?

Sir _Cau_. Ay, what you say, can you make this out?

Sir _Feeb_. I make it out!

Sir _Cau_. Ay, Sir--if you say it, and cannot make it out, you're a--

Sir _Feeb_. What am I, Sir? What am I?

Sir _Cau_. A Cuckold as well as my self, Sir; and I'll sue you for
_Scandalum Magnatum_; I shall recover swinging Damages with a City-Jury.

Sir _Feeb_. I know of no