Sir Cau.  So, I’ll be hang’d if he do not tell me, I’m a Cuckold now:  I

see it in his Eyes.  My Ear, Sir!  I’d have you to know I scorn any man’s secrets, Sir;—­for ought I know you may whisper Treason to me, Sir.  Pox on him, how handsom he is, I hate the sight of the young Stallion.
          
                                                     [Aside.

Gay.  I wou’d not be so uncivil, Sir, before all this Company.

Sir Cau.  Uncivil!  Ay, ay, ’tis so, he cannot be content to cuckold, but he must tell me so too.

Gay.  But since you will have it, Sir—­you are—­a Rascal—­a most notorious Villain, Sir, d’ye hear—­

Sir Cau.  Yes, yes, I do hear—­and am glad ’tis no worse. [Laughing.

Gay.  Griping as Hell—­and as insatiable—­worse than a Brokering Jew, not all the Twelve Tribes harbour such a damn’d Extortioner.

Sir Cau.  Pray, under favour, Sir, who are you?
                                          [Pulling off his Hat.

Gay.  One whom thou hast undone—­

Sir Cau.  Hum—­I’m glad of that however. [Aside smiling.

Gay.  Racking me up to a starving Want and Misery, Then took advantages to ruin me.

Sir Cau.  So, and he’d revenge it on my Wife—­ [Aside smiling.

Gay.  Do not you know one Wasteall, Sir?

    Enter Ralph with Wine, sets it on a Table.

Sir Cau. Wasteall—­ha, ha, ha,—­if you are any Friend to that poor Fellow—­you may return and tell him, Sir—­d’ye hear—­that the Mortgage of two hundred pound a Year is this day out, and I’ll not bait him an hour, Sir—­ha, ha, ha,—­what, do you think to hector civil Magistrates?

Gay.  Very well, Sir, and is this your Conscience?

Sir Cau.  Conscience! what do you tell me of Conscience?  Why, what a noise is here—­as if the undoing a young Heir were such a Wonder; ods so I’ve undone a hundred without, half this ado.

Gay.  I do believe thee—­and am come to tell you—­I’ll be none of that Number—­for this Minute I’ll go and redeem it—­and free myself from the Hell of your Indentures.

Sir Cau.  How, redeem it! sure the Devil must help him then.—­Stay, Sir—­stay—­Lord, Sir, what need you put your self to that trouble? your Land is in safe hands, Sir; come, come, sit down—­and let us take a Glass of Wine together, Sir—­

Bel.  Sir, my service to you. [Drinks to him.

Gay.  Your Servant, Sir.  Wou’d I cou’d come to speak to Bellmour, which I dare not do in publick, lest I betray him.  I long to be resolv’d where ’twas Sir Feeble was last night—­if it were he—­by which I might find out my invisible Mistress.

Noi.  Noble Mr. Wasteall—­
                     [Salutes him, so does Bearjest.