Act 4 — Scene III. A Hall.

Enter Sir Patient and Roger.

Sir Pat. Roger, is Prayer ready, Roger?

Rog. Truly nay, Sir, for Mr. Gogle has taken too much of the Creature this Morning, and is not in case, Sir.

Sir Pat. How mean you, Sirrah, that Mr. Gogle is overtaken with Drink?

Rog. Nay, Sir, he hath over-eaten himself at Breakfast only.

Sir Pat. Alas, and that’s soon done, for he hath a sickly Stomach as well as I, poor Man. Where is Bartholomew the Clerk? he must hold forth then to day.

Rog. Verily he is also disabled: for going forth last Night by your Commandment to smite the Wicked, he received a blow over the Pericranium.—

Sir Pat. Why, how now, Sirrah, Latin! the Language of the Beast! hah—and what then, Sir?

Rog. Which Blow, I doubt, Sir, hath spoil’d both his Praying and his Eating.

Sir Pat. Hah! What a Family’s here? no Prayer to day!

Enter Nurse and Fanny.

Nurs. Nay verily it shall all out, I will be no more the dark Lanthorn to the deeds of Darkness.

Sir Pat. What’s the matter here? Exit Roger.

Nurs. Sir, this young Sinner has long been privy to all the daily and nightly meetings between Mr. Lodwick and Isabella; and just now I took her tying a Letter to a String in the Garden, which he drew up to his Window: and I have born it till my Conscience will bear it no longer.

Sir Pat. Hah, so young a Baud!—Tell me, Minion—private meeting! tell me truth, I charge ye, when? where? how? and how often? Oh, she’s debauch’d!—her Reputation ruin’d, and she’ll need a double Portion. Come, tell me truth, for this little Finger here has told me all.

Fan. Oh Geminy, Sir, then that little Finger’s the hougesest great Lyer as ever was.

Sir Pat. Huzzy, huzzy—I will have thee whip’d most unmercifully: Nurse, fetch me the Rod.

Fan. Oh, pardon me, Sir, this one time, and I’ll tell all. Kneels.

—Sir—I have seen him in the Garden, but not very often.

Sir Pat. Often! Oh, my Family’s dishonoured. Tell me truly what he us’d to do there, or I will have thee whipt without cessation. Oh, I’m in a cold Sweat; there’s my fine Maid, was he with her long?

Fan. Long enough.

Sir Pat. Long enough!—oh, ’tis so, long enough,—for what, hah? my dainty Miss, tell me, and didst thou leave ’em?

Fan. They us’d to send me to gather Flowers to make Nosegays, Sir.

Sir Pat. Ah, Demonstration; ’tis evident if they were left alone that they were naught, I know’t.—And where were they the while? in the close Arbour?—Ay, ay—I will have it cut down, it is the Pent-house of Iniquity, the very Coverlid of Sin.

Fan. No, Sir, they sat on the Primrose Bank.

Sir Pat. What, did they sit all the while, or stand—or—lie—or—oh, how was’t?

Fan. They only sat indeed, Sir Father.

Sir Pat. And thou didst not hear a Word they said all the while?

Fan. Yes, I did, Sir, and the Man talk’d a great deal of this, and of that, and of t’other, and all the while threw Jessamine in her Bosom.

Sir Pat. Well said, and did he nothing else?

Fan. No, indeed, Sir Father, nothing.

Sir Pat. But what did she say to the Man again?

Fan. She said, let me see.—Ay, she said, Lord, you’ll forget your self, and stay till somebody catch us.

Sir Pat. Ah, very fine,—then what said he?

Fan. Then he said, Well if I must be gone, let me leave thee with this hearty Curse, A Pox take thee all over for making me love thee so confoundedly.

Sir Pat. Oh horrible!

Fan. —Oh, I cou’d live here for ever,—that was when he kist her—her Hand only. Are you not a damn’d Woman for making so fond a Puppy of me?

Sir Pat. Oh unheard-of Wickedness!

Fan. Wou’d the Devil had thee, and all thy Family, e’er I had seen thy cursed Face.

Sir Pat. Oh, I’ll hear no more, I’ll hear no more!—why, what a blasphemous Wretch is this?

Fan. Pray, Sir Father, do not tell my Sister of this, she’ll be horribly angry with me.

Sir Pat. No, no, get you gone.—Oh, I am Heart-sick—I’ll up and consult with my Lady what’s fit to be done in this Affair. Oh, never was the like heard of.—

Goes out, Fanny and Nurse go the other way.