Bel. If not, I hope my consent to marry Mr. Heartfree will convince you; for, as little as I know of amours, sir, I can assure you, one intrigue is enough to bring four people together, without further mischief.
Sir J. And I know, too, that intrigues tend to procreation of more kinds than one. One intrigue will beget another, as soon as beget a son or a daughter.
Con. I am very sorry, sir, to see you still seem unsatisfied with a lady, whose more than common virtue, I am sure, were she my wife, should meet a better usage.
Sir J. Sir, if her conduct has put a trick upon her virtue, her virtue’s the bubble, but her husband’s the loser.
Con. Sir, you have received a sufficient answer already, to justify both her conduct and mine. You’ll pardon me for meddling in your family affairs; but I perceive I am the man you are jealous of, and therefore it concerns me.
Sir J. Would it did not concern me, and then I should not care who it concerned.
Con. Well, sir, if truth and reason won’t content you, I know but one way more, which, if you think fit, you may take.
Sir J. Lord, sir, you are very hasty: if I had been found at prayers in your wife’s closet, I should have allowed you twice as much time to come to yourself in.
Con. Nay, sir, if time be all you want, we have no quarrel.
Heart. I told you how the sword would work upon him.
[Sir John muses.
Con. Let him muse; however, I’ll lay fifty pounds our foreman brings us in not guilty.
Sir J. [aside]. ’Tis very well—’tis very well. In spite of that young jade’s matrimonial intrigue, I am a
downright stinking cuckold. Here they are. Boo—[Putting his hand to his forehead.] Methinks, I could
butt with a bull. What the plague did I marry for? I know she did not like me; but that’s past. And now
what shall I do with her? If I put my horns into my pocket, she’ll grow insolent—if I don’t, that goat there,
that stallion, is ready to whip me through the guts. The debate then is reduced to this; shall I die a hero,
or live a rascal? Why, wiser men than I have long since concluded, that a living dog is better than a
dead lion. [To C
Enter Lady F
Con. I’m glad to see your reason rule at last. Give me your hand: I hope you’ll look upon me as you used to do.
Sir J. Your humble servant. [Aside.] A wheedling son of a whore?
Heart. And that I may be sure you are friends with me, too, pray give me your consent to wed your niece.
Sir J. Sir, you have it with all my heart; d——n me if you haven’t. [Aside.] ’Tis time to get rid of her; a young pert pimp; she’ll make an incomparable bawd in a little time.