Oh, sir, are you come? I wonder, sir, how you have the confidence to approach me, after so base a trick.

_Colonel S._ Oh, madam, all your artifices won't avail.

_Lady L._ Nay, sir, your artifices won't avail. I thought, sir, that I gave you caution enough against troubling me with Sir Harry Wildair's company, when I sent his letters back by you; yet you, forsooth, must tell him where I lodged, and expose me again to his impertinent courtship!

_Colonel S._ I expose you to his courtship!

_Lady L._ I'll lay my life you'll deny it now. Come, come, sir: a pitiful lie is as scandalous to a red coat, as an oath to a black.

_Colonel S._ You're all lies; first, your heart is false; your eyes are double; one look belies another; and then your tongue does contradict them all--Madam, I see a little devil just now hammering out a lie in your pericranium.

_Lady L._ As I hope for mercy, he's in the right on't. [_Aside._

_Colonel. S._ Yes, yes, madam, I exposed you to the courtship of your fool Clincher, too; I hope your female wiles will impose that upon me----also----

_Lady L._ Clincher! Nay, now you're stark mad. I know no such person.

_Colonel S._ Oh, woman in perfection! not know him! 'Slife, madam, can my eyes, my piercing jealous eyes, be so deluded? Nay, madam, my nose could not mistake him; for I smelt the fop by his pulvilio, from the balcony down to the street.

_Lady L._ The balcony! ha! ha! ha! the balcony! I'll be hanged but he has mistaken Sir Harry Wildair's footman, with a new French livery, for a beau.

_Colonel S._ 'Sdeath, madam! what is there in me that looks like a cully? Did I not see him?

_Lady L._ No, no, you could not see him; you're dreaming, colonel. Will you believe your eyes, now that I have rubbed them open?--Here, you friend.

_Enter_ TOM ERRAND, _in_ CLINCHER SENIOR'S _Clothes_.

_Colonel S._ This is illusion all; my eyes conspire against themselves.

Tis legerdemain.

_Lady L._ Legerdemain! Is that all your acknowledgment for your rude behaviour?--Oh, what a curse is it to love as I do!--Begone sir, [_To_ TOM ERRAND.] to your impertinent master, and tell him I shall never be at leisure to receive any of his troublesome visits.--Send to me to know when I should be at home!--Begone, sir. [_Exit_ TOM ERRAND.] I am sure he has made me an unfortunate woman. [_Weeps._

_Colonel S._ Nay, then there is no certainty in nature; and truth is only falsehood well disguised.

_Lady L._ Sir, had not I owned my fond, foolish pa.s.sion, I should not have been subject to such unjust suspicions: but it is an ungrateful return. [_Weeping._

_Colonel S._ Now, where are all my firm resolves? I hope, madam, you'll pardon me, since jealousy, that magnified my suspicion, is as much the effect of love, as my easiness in being satisfied.

_Lady L._ Easiness in being satisfied! No, no, sir; cherish your suspicions, and feed upon your jealousy: 'tis fit meat for your squeamish stomach.

With me all women should this rule pursue: Who think us false, should never find us true. [_Exit in a Rage._

_Enter_ CLINCHER SENIOR _in_ TOM ERRAND'S _Clothes_.

_Clinch. sen._ Well, intriguing is the prettiest, pleasantest thing for a man of my parts.--How shall we laugh at the husband, when he is gone?--How sillily he looks! He's in labour of horns already.--To make a colonel a cuckold! 'Twill be rare news for the alderman.

_Colonel S._ All this Sir Harry has occasioned; but he's brave, and will afford me a just revenge.--Oh, this is the porter I sent the challenge by----Well sir, have you found him?

_Clinch. sen._ What the devil does he mean now?

_Colonel S._ Have you given Sir Harry the note, fellow?

_Clinch. sen._ The note! what note?

_Colonel S._ The letter, blockhead, which I sent by you to Sir Harry Wildair; have you seen him?

_Clinch. sen._ Oh, lord, what shall I say now? Seen him? Yes, sir--no, sir.--I have, sir--I have not, sir.

_Colonel S._ The fellow's mad. Answer me directly, sirrah, or I'll break your head.

_Clinch. sen._ I know Sir Harry very well, sir; but as to the note, sir, I can't remember a word on't: truth is, I have a very bad memory.

_Colonel S._ Oh, sir, I'll quicken your memory. [_Strikes him._

_Clinch. sen._ Zouns, sir, hold!--I did give him the note.

_Colonel S._ And what answer?

_Clinch. sen._ I mean, I did not give him the note.

_Colonel S._ What, d'ye banter, rascal? [_Strikes him again._

_Clinch. sen._ Hold, sir, hold! He did send an answer.

_Colonel S._ What was't, villain?

_Clinch. sen._ Why, truly sir, I have forgot it: I told you that I had a very treacherous memory.

_Colonel S._ I'll engage you shall remember me this month, rascal.

[_Beats him, and exit._

_Enter_ LUREWELL _and_ PARLY.

_Lady L._ Oh, my poor gentleman! and was it beaten?

_Clinch. sen._ Yes, I have been beaten. But where's my clothes? my clothes?

_Lady L._ What, you won't leave me so soon, my dear, will ye?

_Clinch. sen._ Will ye!--If ever I peep into the colonel's tent again, may I be forced to run the gauntlet. But my clothes, madam.

_Lady L._ I sent the porter down stairs with them: did not you meet him?

_Clinch. sen._ Meet him? No, not I.

_Parly._ No! He went out at the back door, and is run clear away, I'm afraid.

_Clinch. sen._ Gone, say you, and with my clothes, my fine Jubilee clothes?--Oh, the rogue, the thief!--I'll have him hang'd for murder--But how shall I get home in this pickle?