I'll speak to her

d' ye hear?

-Pray, madam, what news

Laet. Sir, I seldom stir abroad.

[Walks about in disorder.

Sir Jos. I wonder at that, madam, for 't is most curious fine weather.

Laet. Methinks it has been very ill weather.

Sir Jos. As you say, madam, 't is pretty bad weather, and has been so a great while.

Enter FONDLEWIFE.

Fond. Here are fifty pieces in this purse, Sir Joseph ---If you will tarry a moment, 'till I fetch my papers, I'll wait upon you down stairs.

Laet. Ruin'd, past redemption! What shall I do--Ha! this fool may be of use. [Aside.] [As Fondlewife is going into the chamber, she runs to Sir Joseph, almost pushes him down, and cries out.] Stand off, rude rufian! Help me, my dearO, bless me! Why will you leave me alone with such a satyr?

Fond. Bless us! What's the matter? What's the matter?

Laet. Your back was no sooner turn'd, but like a lion, he came open..mouth'd upon me, and would have ravished a kiss from me by main force.

Sir Jos. Oh, Lord! Oh, terrible! Ha, ha, ha! is your wife mad, alderman ?

Lat. Oh! I'm sick with the fright. Won't you take him out of my sight?

M.FOOTE & FONDLE WIFE.

Thornthwaite out.

us! What's the matter? What's the matter? London Printed for J.Fell. Eritish Library, Strand, May 15.1726.

Fond. Oh, traitor! I'm astonished. Oh, bloody

minded traitor!

Sir Jos. Hey-day! Traitor yourselfBy the Lord Harry, I was in most danger of being ravish'd, if you go to that.

Fond. Oh, how the blasphemous wretch swears!Out of my house, thou son of the whore of Babylon; offspring of Bell and the dragon-Bless us! Ravish my wife! my Dinah! oh, Schechemite! Begone,

I say.

Sir Jos. Why, the devil's in the people, I think. Læt. Oh! won't you follow and see him out of doors, my dear?

Fond. I'll shut this door to secure him from coming back-Give me the key of your cabinet, Cocky -Ravish my wife before my face! I warrant he 's a Papist in his heart, at least, "if not a Frenchman.”

Læt. What can I do now? [Aside.] Oh! my dear, I have been in such a fright, that I forgot to tell you, poor Mr. Spintext has had a fit of the cholic, and is forced to lie down upon our bed- -You'll disturb

him; I can tread softlier.

Fond. Alack, poor man-no, no-you don't know the paper;-I won't disturb him; give me the key. [She gives him the key, goes to the chamber door, and speaks aloud.

Lat. 'Tis nobody but Mr. Fondlewife; Mr. Spintext, lie still on your stomach; lying on your stomach will ease you of the cholic.

turb you.

Fond. Ay, ay, lie still, lie still; don't let me dis[Exit Fond. Lat. Sure, when he does not see his face, he won't discover him. Dear fortune, help me but this once, and I'll never run in thy debt againBut this opportunity is the devil.

FONDLEWIFE returns with papers.

Fond. Good lack! good lack!- -I profess the poor man is in great torment, he lies as flat-Dear, Where's you should heat a trencher or a napkinDeborah? Let her clap some warm thing to his stomach, or chafe it with a warm hand, rather than fail. What book 's this. [Sees the book that Bellmour forgot. Lat. Mr. Spintext's prayer-book, dearPray Heav'n it be a prayer-book.

[Aside.

Fond. Good man! I warrant he dropped it on purpose, that you might take it up, and read some of the pious ejaculations. [Taking up the book.] O bless me ! O monstrous! A prayer-book! Ay, this is the devil's Pater-noster. Hold, let me see, The Innocent Adultery.

Læt. Misfortune! now all's ruin'd again. [Aside. "Bell. [Peeping.] Damn'd chance! If I had gone "a whoring with the Practice of Piety in my pocket, "I had never been discovered."

Fond. Adultery and innocent! Olord! Here's doctrine! Ay, here's discipline!

Let. Dear husband, I'm amaz'd

Sure it is a

good book, and only tends to the speculation of sin.