Bel. I think it’s a pity they should ever part—

Con. The company that’s here, madam.

Lady B. Then, sir, the company that’s here must remember to part itself in time.

Con. Madam, we don’t intend to forfeit your future favours, by an indiscreet usage of this. The moment you give us the signal, we shan’t fail to make our retreat.

Lady B. Upon those conditions, then, let us sit down to cards.

Lov. Oh, lord! madam, here’s my master just staggering in upon you: he has been quarrelsome yonder, and they have kicked him out of the company.

[Exit.

Lady B. Into the closet, gentlemen, for heaven’s sake!

[CONSTANT and HEARTFREE run into the closet.

Enter Sir JOHN BRUTE, covered with dirt and blood.

Lady B. Ah! ah! he’s all over blood!

Sir J. What the plague does the woman squall for? Did you never see a man in a pickle before?

Lady B. Lord! where have you been?

Sir J. I have been at—cuffs.

Lady B. I fear that is not all. I hope you are not wounded?

Sir J. Sound as a roach, wife.

Lady B. I’m mighty glad to hear it.

Sir J. You know—I think you lie.

Lady B. ’Tis a hard fate, I should not be believed.

Sir J. ’Tis a d—d atheistical age, wife.

Lady B. I am sure I have given you a thousand tender proofs how great my care is of you. But, spite of all your cruel thoughts, I still persist; and, at this moment, if I can, persuade you to lie down and sleep a little.

Sir J. Why, do you think I am drunk, you slut you?

Lady B. Heaven forbid I should! But I’m afraid you are feverish. Pray, let me feel your pulse.

Sir J. Stand off, and be d—d.

Lady B. Why, I see your distemper in your eyes: you are all on fire. Pray, go to bed; let me entreat you.

Sir J. Come, Kiss me, then.

Lady B. [Kissing him]. There! now go.—[Aside.] He stinks like poison.