The Works of Aphra Behn - novelonlinefull.com
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L. _Ful_. Hah--my Husband do this?
_Gay_. He, by Love, he was the kind Procurer, Contriv'd the means, and brought me to thy Bed.
L. _Ful_. My Husband! My wise Husband!
What fondness in my Conduct had he seen, To take so shameful and so base Revenge?
_Gay_. None--'twas filthy Avarice seduc'd him to't.
L. _Ful_. If he cou'd be so barbarous to expose me, Cou'd you who lov'd me--be so cruel too?
_Gay_. What--to possess thee when the Bliss was offer'd?
Possess thee too without a Crime to thee?
Charge not my Soul with so remiss a flame, So dull a sense of Virtue to refuse it.
L. _Ful_. I am convinc'd the fault was all my Husband's-- And here I vow--by all things just and sacred, To separate for ever from his Bed. [_Kneels_.
Sir _Cau_. Oh, I am not able to indure it-- Hold--oh, hold, my Dear-- [_He kneels as she rises_.
L. _Ful_. Stand off--I do abhor thee--
Sir _Cau_. With all my Soul--but do not make rash Vows.
They break my very Heart--regard my Reputation.
L. _Ful_. Which you have had such care of, Sir, already-- Rise, 'tis in vain you kneel.
Sir _Cau_. No--I'll never rise again--Alas! Madam, I was merely drawn in; I only thought to sport a Dye or so: I had only an innocent design to have discover'd whether this Gentleman had stoln my Gold, that so I might have hang'd him--
_Gay_. A very innocent Design indeed!
Sir _Cau_. Ay, Sir, that's all, as I'm an honest man.--
L. _Ful_. I've sworn, nor are the Stars more fix'd than I.
_Enter Servant_.
_Serv_. How! my Lady and his Worship up?--Madam, a Gentleman and a Lady below in a Coach knockt me up, and say they must speak with your Ladyship.
L. _Ful_. This is strange!--bring them up-- [_Exit Servant_.
Who can it be, at this odd time of neither Night nor Day?
_Enter_ Leticia, Bellmour, _and_ Phillis.
_Let_. Madam, your Virtue, Charity and Friendship to me, has made me trespa.s.s on you for my Life's security, and beg you will protect me, and my Husband-- [_Points at_ Bellmour.
Sir _Cau_. So, here's another sad Catastrophe!
L. _Ful_. Hah--does _Bellmour_ live? is't possible?
Believe me, Sir, you ever had my Wishes; And shall not fail of my Protection now.
_Bel_. I humbly thank your Ladyship.
_Gay_. I'm glad thou hast her, _Harry_; but doubt thou durst not own her; nay dar'st not own thy self.
_Bel_. Yes, Friend, I have my Pardon-- But hark, I think we are pursu'd already-- But now I fear no force.
[_A noise of some body coming in_.
L. _Ful_. However, step into my Bed-chamber.
[_Exeunt_ Leticia, Gayman _and_ Phillis.
_Enter Sir_ Feeble _in an Antick manner_.
Sir _Feeb_. h.e.l.l shall not hold thee--nor vast Mountains cover thee, but I will find thee out--and lash thy filthy and Adulterous Carcase.
[_Coming up in a menacing manner to Sir _Cau.
Sir _Cau_. How--lash my filthy Carcase?--I defy thee, Satan--
Sir _Feeb_. 'Twas thus he said.
Sir _Cau_. Let who's will say it, he lies in's Throat.
Sir _Feeb_. How, the Ghostly--hush--have a care--for 'twas the Ghost of _Bellmour_--Oh! hide that bleeding Wound, it chills my Soul!-- [_Runs to the Lady_ Fulbank.
L. _Ful_. What bleeding Wound?--Heavens, are you frantick, Sir?
Sir _Feeb_. No--but for want of rest, I shall e'er Morning. [_Weeps_.
--She's gone--she's gone--she's gone-- [_He weeps_.
Sir _Cau_. Ay, ay, she's gone, she's gone indeed.
[_Sir_ Cau. _weeps_.
Sir _Feeb_. But let her go, so I may never see that dreadful Vision --harkye, Sir--a word in your Ear--have a care of marrying a young Wife.
Sir _Cau_. Ay, but I have married one already. [_Weeping_.
Sir _Feeb_. Hast thou? Divorce her--flie her, quick--depart--be gone, she'll cuckold thee--and still she'll cuckold thee.
Sir _Cau_. Ay, Brother, but whose fault was that?--Why, are not you married?
Sir _Feeb_. Mum--no words on't, unless you'll have the Ghost about your Ears; part with your Wife, I say, or else the Devil will part ye.
L. _Ful_. Pray go to Bed, Sir.
Sir _Feeb_. Yes, for I shall sleep now, I shall lie alone; [_Weeps_.
Ah, Fool, old dull besotted Fool--to think she'd love me--'twas by base means I gain'd her--cozen'd an honest Gentleman of Fame and Life--
L. _Ful_. You did so, Sir, but 'tis not past Redress--you may make that honest Gentleman amends.
