Act IV - Page 2

wife love thee, nay, dote upon thee? Yes. Why then! Ay, but to say truth, she's fonder of me than she has reason to be; and in the way of trade, we still suspect the smoothest dealers of the deepest designs. And that she has some designs deeper than thou canst reach, thou hast experimented, Isaac. But, mum.

SCENE IV.

FONDLEWIFE, LAETITIA.

LAET. I hope my dearest jewel is not going to leave me--are you, Nykin?

FOND. Wife--have you thoroughly considered how detestable, how heinous, and how crying a sin the sin of adultery is? Have you weighed it, I say? For it is a very weighty sin; and although it may lie heavy upon thee, yet thy husband must also bear his part. For thy iniquity will fall upon his head.

LAET. Bless me, what means my dear?

FOND. [Aside.] I profess she has an alluring eye; I am doubtful whether I shall trust her, even with Tribulation himself. Speak, I say, have you considered what it is to cuckold your husband?

LAET. [Aside.] I'm amazed. Sure he has discovered nothing. Who has wronged me to my dearest? I hope my jewel does not think that ever I had any such thing in my head, or ever will have.

FOND. No, no, I tell you I shall have it in my head -

LAET. [Aside.] I know not what to think. But I'm resolved to find the meaning of it. Unkind dear! Was it for this you sent to call me? Is it not affliction enough that you are to leave me, but you must study to increase it by unjust suspicions? [Crying.] Well--well--you know my fondness, and you love to tyrannise--Go on, cruel man, do: triumph over my poor heart while it holds, which cannot be long, with this usage of yours. But that's what you want. Well, you will have your ends soon. You will--you will. Yes, it will break to oblige you. [Sighs.]

FOND. Verily, I fear I have carried the jest too far. Nay, look you now if she does not weep--'tis the fondest fool. Nay, Cocky, Cocky, nay, dear Cocky, don't cry, I was but in jest, I was not, ifeck.

LAET. [Aside.] Oh then, all's safe. I was terribly frighted. My affliction is always your jest, barbarous man! Oh, that I should love to this degree! Yet -

FOND. Nay, Cocky.

LAET. No, no, you are weary of me, that's it--that's all, you would get another wife--another fond fool, to break her heart-- Well, be as cruel as you can to me, I'll pray for you; and when I am dead with grief, may you have one that will love you as well as I have done: I shall be contented to lie at peace in my cold grave--since it will please you. [Sighs.]

FOND. Good lack, good lack, she would melt a heart of oak--I profess I can hold no longer. Nay, dear Cocky--ifeck, you'll break my heart--ifeck you will. See, you have made me weep--made poor Nykin weep. Nay, come kiss, buss poor Nykin--and I won't leave thee--I'll lose all first.

LAET. [Aside.] How! Heaven forbid! that will be carrying the jest too far