Pedro, call my Wife—
My Wife, said I! Gerardo, didst thou know
The secret fears contain’d within this Bosome,
Thou’dst sooner pitty me, than wish my Life:
How can I think her story of the Jewels,
And other matters ’bout her Fathers Will,
Could have produc’d so scandalous a Meeting?
And yet she still avows it! Oh, Jealousie!
Where will these panting fears still hurry me?
I hourly seek to find what I wou’d give,
A thousand Worlds my heart would ne’re believe;
And yet for what do I thus vex my self?
For that, which if ’twas gone, I cou’d not miss;
No, would I could, for then I’de never fear,
But when I found her Honour gone astray,
I’d send her Life to fetch mine back again.

Cæl. What’s your Command, my Lord?

Anto. Prethee, my Dear, do not retire too much,
But shew a merry freedom to our Friends,
That they may think us happy, themselves welcome.

Cæl. My Lord, I shall, and reason have to do it;
But I desire you would dispence my absence,
Only a little time, I being preparing
A general Confession I shall make to Morrow.

Anto. You’l be too long about it.

Cæl. No, my Lord, I take the shortest way
In writing what my thoughts can re-collect.

Ant. You would not let me read it, when y’have done?

Cæl. I do confess I should be loath, my Lord.
But yet from any Sin concerns your self,
I am as free as are the purer Angels,
Or may I find no profit by my Prayers.

Anto. I will believe thee; go, make haste and do it.

Yet, if’t be possible, I’m resolv’d to see it;
’Twill Cure my fears, perhaps, or change their Natures,
And make ’em certainties the lesser evil cause sooner Cur’d:
For Jealousies with fear doth plague the mind,
But that is Cur’d when certainties we find.

Jasp. Oh, plague o’this Old Bitch, she has kept me
so awake with her Coughing all Night, that I
have quite out-slept my self.

By Heav’n near Ten a Clock, and she not gone
yet—plague on her—she’l be catch’d, and I shall
be turn’d away—why Nurse—make haste, ’tis Ten a
clock and past, you will be wanting.

Nurse within. That cannot be, alas, the times but short
that I’ve been with thee, my Dear.

Jasp. No, perhaps you think so;
but let me ever want money to drink,
if I have not thought the time longer
then her Life has been, and that began beyond the mem’ry
of man. What drudgery am I forc’d to undergo to
get a little money to support me—that I may Live to
watch all apted times for my Revenge on this whole
family, who Rise upon the Ruines of our House.
This Nurse of Ninety never stayes with me but I’de as
live have been Rid by a Night-Mare.

Nurse. What’s that, Night-Mare? Am I a Night-Mare?

Jasp. No, Nurse, I said, I was troubl’d with a Night-Mare,
and should be worse, were it not for thy Company.

Nurse. Nay, I am good Friend of thine every way.

Jasp. That’s true; but Nurse make haste, for I am
damnably afraid Flora suspects us e’re since
she took me in your Chamber, and if she shou’d
take you here, and tell my Lady, I should be turn’d
away, for you know she loves me not e’re since I
gave my Lord notice of her meeting Don Lewis,
to give him the money and Jewels, her Father
left privately in her hands for him when he dy’d.

Nurse. I Chuck, but why didst thou do so?

Jasp. In hopes to have got some of the money for my
discovery, what made her tempt me with the
trust of money, and give me none to keep Counsel.
But prethee Nurse be gone.

Nurse. I, give me but one buss, and I will.

Jasp. What a belch was there to perfume it?

Nurse. Sweet Rogue, I cannot go without the other kiss.

Jasp. Oh, Nurse! you will undo me; prethee no more.

Nurse. What, Rascal, slight my favours? you shall repent it.

Jasp. No, Nurse, think not so, but—

Why, Nurse, Nurse, my Lady wants you; come away there,
I know where you have been all Night.

Jasp. Why, there ’tis—this is what I fear’d, I am undone,
a plague of Cubbard Love—step into the Closet.

Nurse. What’s that you say, Cubbard Love?

Jasp. No, no, prethee no Arguments, but step into the Closet.

Flora within. Why, Nurse, I say! why don’t you come away?
My Lady wants you.

Jasp. Flora, what’s the matter with you? Nurse is not here;
do but come in and see.

Flor. Come, come, she must be here; for she
was not in her own Bed to Night, and where should
she be, but with you?

Jasp. With me! what the Devil should she do with me?
Can’t her Old Chopps mumble her Beads o’re, but I
must keep count of her Pater Nosters: No, no, she’s
gon on Pilgrimage to some Shrine, to beg Children
for my Lady; ’tis a devout Old Woman.

Flor. Devout! I, her Devotion and yours are much alike,
the Fit ne’re took you but once in your Lives, and
then, ’tis true you wept at Prayers, that was, at your
own Christnings.

Jasp. Prethee more Charity, sweet dear Flora; come, let
me kiss thee.

Flor. Pray forbear, I’de sooner kiss a Horse.

Jasp. Why so scornful, dear Flora?

Flor. That’s not my bus’ness; come, tell me, where’s the Nurse?

Jasp. Prethee, why dost ask me for the Nurse? Dost think
i am so hot to make Love to a Monument? Why, she’s
old enough to be Mother of all Mankind; her skin’s
turn’d to parchment, he that should enjoy her, had as
good lye with a bundle of Old Records. In truth, she’s
fit for nothing now, but to be hang’d up amongst the
monsters in a ’Pothecaries Shop, where, with abuse to
the Beast, she would be taken for a large Apes skin stufft
with Hay. Ah, Flora, if she were as Young as thou art,
then’t might be likely, I might find her when she was lost.

Flor. Well, if she be not here now, I’m sure it was not for
nothing you once lost your way into her Chamber,
and staid all Night.

Jasp. Meer Drunkenness, by this Light, Flora! Why, if it had
been a Vault full of Dead Carkasses, I should have slipt
into it in the pickle I was in—Nay, for ought I know,
with more pleasure too.

Nurse. Now out upon you for a Rogue,
there’s no