_Sir John._ 'Tis a damn'd Atheistical Age, Wife. _Lady Brute._ I am sure I have given you a thousand tender Proofs, how great my Care is of you. But, spite of all your cruel Thoughts, I'll still persist, and at this Moment, if I can, persuade you to lie down and sleep a little. _Sir John._ Why--do you think I am drunk--you Slut, you? _Lady Brute._ Heaven forbid I shou'd! But I'm afraid you are feverish. Pray let me feel your Pulse. _Sir John._ Stand off, and be damn'd. _Lady Brute._ Why, I see your Distemper in your very Eyes. You are all on Fire. Pray, go to Bed; let me intreat you. _Sir John._----Come, kiss me, then. _Lady Brute._ [_Kissing him._] There: Now go. [_Aside._] He stinks like Poison. _Sir John._ I see it goes damnably against your Stomach--And therefore--Kiss me again. _Lady Brute._ Nay, now you fool me. _Sir John._ Do't, I say. _Lady Brute._ [_Aside._] Ah, Lord have mercy upon me! Well--there: now will you go? _Sir John._ Now, Wife, you shall see my Gratitude. You gave me two Kisses--I'll give you--two hundred. [_Kisses, and tumbles her._ _Lady Brute._ O Lord! Pray, Sir John, be quiet. Heavens, what a Pickle am I in! _Bel._ [_Aside._] If I were in her Pickle, I'd call my Gallant out of the Closet, and he shou'd cudgel him soundly. _Sir John._ So, now you being as dirty and as nasty as myself, we may go pig together. But first I must have a Cup of your cold Tea, Wife. [_Going to the Closet._ _Lady Brute._ O I'm ruin'd! There's none there, my Dear. _Sir John._ I'll warrant you I'll find some, my Dear. _Lady Brute._ You can't open the Door, the Lock's spoil'd; I have been turning and turning the Key this half Hour to no purpose. I'll send for the Smith to-morrow. _Sir John._ There's ne'er a Smith in _Europe_ can open a Door with more Expedition than I can do----As for Example--Poh! [_He bursts open the Door with his Foot._]----How now! What the Devil have we got here?----_Constant_----_Heartfree_----And two Whores again, I'gad----This is the worst cold Tea----that ever I met with in my Life---- _Enter ~Constant~ and ~Heartfree~._ _Lady Brute._ [_Aside._] O Lord, what will become of us? _Sir John._ Gentlemen----I am your very humble Servant--I give you many Thanks----I see you take Care of my Family----I shall do all I can to return the Obligation. _Const._ Sir, how oddly soever this Business may appear to you, you would have no cause to be uneasy, if you knew the Truth of all things; your Lady is the most virtuous Woman in the World, and nothing has past but an innocent Frolick. _Heart._ Nothing else, upon my Honour, Sir. _Sir John._ You are both very civil Gentlemen--And my Wife, there, is a very civil Gentlewoman; therefore I don't doubt but many civil things have past between you. Your very humble Servant.