Act 3 — Scene VII. Changes to Lady Fancy’s Bed-chamber, discovers her as before; Lodwick as just risen in Disorder from the Bed, buttoning himself, and setting himself in order; and Noise at the Door of unlatching it.
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Enter Isabella groping, Sir Patient without.
L. Fan. It is this Door that open’d, and which I thought I had secur’d.
Sir Pat. Within. Oh, insupportable, abominable, and not to be indur’d!
Isab. Hah, my Father! I’m discover’d and pursu’d,—grant me to find the Bed.
L. Fan. Heavens! ’twas my Husband’s Voice, sure we’re betray’d. It must be so, for what Devil but that of Jealousy cou’d raise him at this late hour?
Isab. Hah, where am I, and who is’t that speaks— To her self.
Lod. So, he must know that I have made a Cuckold of him. Aside.
Sir Pat. Within. Call up my Men, the Coachman, Groom, and Butler, the Footmen, Cook, and Gardiner; bid ’em all rise and arm, with long Staff, Spade and Pitchfork, and sally out upon the Wicked.
Lod. S’heart! what a Death shall I die:—is there no place of safety hereabouts—for there is no resisting these unmerciful Weapons.
Isab. A Man’s Voice!
L. Fan. I know of none, nor how to prevent your Discovery.
Sir Pat. Within. Oh, oh, lead me forward, I’ll lie here on the Garden-side, out of the hearing of this Hellish Noise.
L. Fan. Hah, Noise!—what means he?
Lod. Nay, I know not, is there no escaping?—
Isab. Who can they be that talk thus? sure I have mistook my Chamber.
L. Fan. Oh, he’s coming in—I’m ruin’d; what shall we do? here—get into the Bed—and cover your self with the Clothes—quickly—oh, my Confusion will betray me.
Lodwick gets into the Bed, Isabella hides behind the Curtain very near to him.
Enter Sir Patient, led by Nurse and Maundy, with Lights.
Maun. Pray go back, Sir, my poor Lady will be frighted out of her Wits at this danger you put your self into, the Noise shall be still’d.
L. Fan. Oh, what’s the matter with my Love? what, do you mean to murder him? oh, lead him instantly back to his Bed.
Sir Pat. Oh, oh, no, I’ll lie here,—put me to bed, oh, I faint,—my Chamber’s possest with twenty thousand Evil Spirits.
L. Fan. Possest! what sickly Fancy’s this?
Sir Pat. Ah, the House is beset, surrounded and confounded with profane tinkling, with Popish Horn-Pipes, and Jesuitical Cymbals, more Antichristian and Abominable than Organs, or Anthems.
Nurse. Yea verily, and surely it is the spawn of Cathedral Instruments plaid on by Babylonish Minstrels, only to disturb the Brethren.
Sir Pat. Ay, ’tis so, call up my Servants, and let them be first chastiz’d and then hang’d; accuse ’em for French Papishes, that had a design to fire the City, or any thing:—oh, I shall die—lead me gently to this Bed.
L. Fan. To hinder him will discover all:—stay, Sir.—
Sir Pat. Hah, my Lady turn’d rebellious!—put me to Bed I say;— Throws himself forward to the Bed. —hah—what’s here?—what are thou,—a Man,—hah, a Man, Treason! betray’d! my Bed’s defil’d, my Lady polluted, and I am cornuted; oh thou vile Serpent of my Bosom!
She stands with her Face towards the Stage in signs of fear.
Isab. A Man, and in my virtuous Lady Mother’s Chamber! how fortunate was I to light on this discovery!
L. Fan. Well, Sir, since you have seen him, I beseech you for my sake, Dear, pardon him this one time. Coakesing him.
Sir Pat. Thou beg his Pardon! Oh, was ever heard such Impudence!
L. Fan. Indeed, my Love, he is to blame; but we that are judicious should bear with the Frailities of Youth.
Sir Pat. Oh insupportable Audacity!—what canst thou say, false Woman?
L. Fan. Truly not much in his Defence, my Dear.
Isab. Oh cunning Devil!—
L. Fan. But, Sir, to hide the weakness of your Daughter, I have a little strain’d my Modesty.—
Isab. Heavens! what says she?—
L. Fan. ’Tis Isabella’s Lover, Sir, whom I’ve conceal’d.
Lod. A good hint to save both our Credits.
Sir Pat. How, Mr. Fainlove mean you?
Lodwick rises and comes a little more forward, Isabella does the like, till both meet at the feet of the Bed, and start, Lodwick looking simply.
L. Fan. Ay, my dear, Mr. Fainlove.
Lod. Isabella here! must she know too what a fine inconstant Dog I am?—
Isab. Lodwick! and in my Mother’s Chamber! may I believe my Eyes!
Sir Pat. But how got he hither?—tell me that: oh Youth, Youth, to what degree of Wickedness art thou arriv’d?
L. Fan. She appointed him to come this Night, Sir, and he going to her Chamber, by mistake came into mine, it being the next to her’s.
Maun. But, Lord, Sir, had you heard how my Lady school’d him, whilst I ran down to fetch a Light!
Lod. Now does my Conscience tell me, I am a damn’d Villain.— Aside, looking pitifully on Isabella.
L. Fan. But the poor Man presently perceiv’d his mistake, and beg’d my pardon in such feeling Terms—that I vow I had not the heart to deny it him.
Isab. Oh Traytor! wou’d thou hadst been that Ravisher I took thee for, rather than such a Villain—false! and with my Mother too!
L. Fan. And just then, Sir, you came to the Door, and lest you shou’d see him, intreated me to hide him from your Anger,—the Offence is not so heinous, Sir, considering he is so soon to marry her.
Sir Pat. Well, Sir, and what have you to say in your Defence?—hah, how, Mr. Knowell,—worse and worse,—why, how came you hither, Sir? hah.—
L. Fan. Not Wittmore! oh, I am ruin’d and betray’d. Falls almost in a swoon.
Sir Pat. Hah, Isabella here too!
Isab. Yes, Sir, to justify her Innocence.
Sir Pat. Hah! Innocence! and justify! take her away; go out of my sight, thou Limb of Satan,—take her away, I say, I’ll talk with you to morrow, Lady Finetricks—I will.—
Isab. —And I’ll know before I sleep, the mystery of all this, and who ’twas this faithless Man sent in his room to deceive me in the Garden. Goes out.
Lod. A plague of all ill-luck—how the Devil came she hither? I must follow and reconcile her. Going out, Sir Patient stays him.
Sir Pat. Nay, Sir, we must not part so till I have known the truth of this Business, I take it.
Lod. Truth, Sir! oh, all that your fair Lady has said, Sir; I must confess her Eyes have wounded me enough with Anger, you need not add more to my Shame.—
L. Fan. Some little comfort yet, that he prov’d indeed to be Isabella’s Lover: Oh, that I should mistake so unluckily! Aside.
Sir Pat. Why, I thought it had been Mr. Fainlove.
L. Fan. By all that’s good, and so did I.
Lod. I know you did, Madam, or you had not been so kind to me: Your Servant, dear Madam.— Going, Sir Patient stays him.
L. Fan. Pray, Sir, let him go; oh, how I abominate the sight of a Man that cou’d be so wicked as he has been!
Sir Pat. Ha,—good Lady, excellent Woman: well, Sir, for my Lady’s sake I’ll let you pass with this, but if I catch you here again, I shall spoil your Intrigues, Sir, marry, shall I, and so rest ye satisfied, Sir.—
Lod. At this time, I am, Sir—Madam, a thousand Blessings on you for this Goodness.
L. Fan. Ten thousand Curses upon thee,—go, boast the Ruin you have made. Aside to Lod.
Sir Pat. Come, no more Anger now, my Lady; the Gentleman’s sorry you see, I’ll marry my pert Huswife to morrow for this.—Maundy, see the Gentleman safe out:—ah, put me to Bed; ah, this Night’s Work will kill me, ah, ah.
Exeunt Lodwick and Maundy.