Heart. What does the lady mean?

Sir J. Zoons! what do you both mean?

[Heartfree and Belinda walk about.

Razor. [aside]. Here is so much sport going to be spoiled, it makes me ready to weep again. A pox o’ this impertinent Fanciful, and her plots, and her Frenchwoman too; I hear them tittering without still. Ecod, I’ll e’en go lug them both by the ears, and discover the plot, to secure my pardon.

[Exit.

Con. Pr’ythee, explain, Heartfree.

Heart. A fair deliverance; thank my stars and my friend!

Bel. ’Tis well it went no farther; a base fellow!

Lady B. What can be the meaning of all this?

Bel. What’s his meaning, I don’t know; but mine is, that if I had married him, I had had no husband.

Heart. And what’s her meaning, I don’t know; but mine is, that if I had married her, I had had wife enough.

Sir J. Your people of wit have got such cramp ways of expressing themselves, they seldom comprehend one another. Pox take you both, will you speak in the language of common sense, that you may be understood?

Enter Razor, pulling in Lady Fanciful and Mademoiselle.

Razor. If they won’t, here comes an interpreter.

Lady B. Heavens! What have we here?

Razor. A villain—but a repenting villain.

Lady B. What means this?

Razor. Nothing without my pardon.

Lady B. What pardon do you want?

Razor. Imprimis, your ladyship’s, for a d—e lie made upon your spotless virtue, and set to the tune of Spring Garden. [To Sir John.] Next at my generous master’s feet I bend, for interrupting his more noble thoughts with phantoms of disgrace ful cuckoldom. [To Constant.] Thirdly, I to this gentleman apply, for making him the hero of my romance. [To Heartfree.] Fourthly, your pardon, noble sir, I ask, for clandestinely marrying you, without either bidding of bans, bishop’s license, friends’ consent, or your own knowledge. [To Belinda.] And lastly, to my good young lady’s elemency I come, for pretending the corn was sowed in the ground, before ever the plough had been in the field.

Sir J. [aside]. So that, after all, ’tis a moot point whether I am a cuckold or not.

Bel. Well, sir, upon condition you confess all, I’ll pardon you myself, and try to obtain as much from the rest of the company. But I must know then who ’tis has put you upon all this mischief.

Razor. Satan and his equipage; woman tempted me, vice weakened me—and so the devil overcame me: as fell Adam, so fell I.