Enter the Governour of Barcellona, and the Marquess of Moncada.
PRithee, my Lord Marquess, don't trouble me with thy Jealous Whims: You say, there was Masqueraders last Night under the Windows, — why there let 'em be a God's Name! I am sorry 'twas such a cold raw Night for the honest Lads. By the Ho∣nour of Spain, if I had heard 'em, I wou'd ha' sent the Rogues a Glass of Malaga to warm 'em.
O Lard! O Lard! I shall run mad! Sure, my Lord Governor, your Horns will exceed the largest in the Palace-Hall.— Oh! that my Wife were out of your House, and Barcellona! Methinks I am not secure, tho' she's under eleven Locks.
By my Holy Dame, I am of your Mind: I don't think you are secure.
How! Do you know any thing to the con∣trary?
Why, by th' Mass, this I believe: her Head's at work;
And I dare say, she has made ye a Cuckold,
In Imagination, with every Don she has thro'
Any Peep-hole seen, since your first Marriage.
Oh! dam' her! dam' her!
You'll never take my Advice.
—Give but a Woman her Freedom still,
Then she'll never act what's ill:
'Tis crossing her, makes her have the Will.
— •hough! I have been in England —
There they are the happiest Husbands —
If a Man does happen to be a Cuckold,
Which, by the way, is almost as rare as in Spain:
But, I say, if it does fall out, all his Wife's Friends
Are his; and he's caress'd,— nay, Godszooks, many times
Rises to his Preferment by it.
Oh, insufferable! I am not able to bear your Di∣scourse.
Enter a Country Fellow.
—A Man coming from my Wife's Apartments!
—Oh, the Devil! the Devil!
I see no cloven Foot he has.
No; but he is one of his Imps; a Letter-Carrier.
I read it in his Face.
Oh! I begin to perceive it now, — here's the
Superscription writ in his Forehead: — To the
Beauteous Donna Elenora, Marchioness
Of, &c. Ay, 'tis very plain.
Well, Governor, these Jeers won't be put up so.
What a wannion ails ye, trow? What do ye mean by Letters? Ich am no Schollard; my Calling is to zell Fruit; and zum o' the Meads o' this Hause (Meads Ich think 'em) beckon'd me in; — I zould 'em zum; and that's all I knaw.
Ay, honest Fellow, I dare swear 'tis: — why, if thou wert a Monkey, he'd be Jealous on thee.
You may think what you please, but I fear other things.
Therefore, if, as a Guest, you will let me have
The Freedom of your House, I'll take
This Fellow in, and search him.
Ay, with all my Heart.— Oh these Jealous Fools!
Come along, sirrah; I'll look as much as in thy Mouth.
Ay, for fear there should be a Note in a hollow Tooth.
Why,—de ye zee, as for matter o' that,—
ye ma' look in my A —
Hold, Beast, 'tis a Man of Quality you speak to.
Zooks, I think 'tis a Mad-man.
Come your ways, Impudence!
But, Sir, Sir, — must the Meads zerch me, or the Men?
I'll tell you presently, ye wanton Rogue.
Exit. driving him before him.
Enter the Governor's Lady.
Why, Tittup, here the Marquess has been fretting,
Fuming, swearing, raging: he is just Horn-mad —
Heark ye, Tittup, did you hear any Serenading last night?
Yes, Deary; 'twas the English Collonel to me; —
You are not angry, Deary.
He that has a handsom buxom Wife,
Must surely be always pleased;
Blest with a pleasant quiet life,
And never, never teased.
But heark ye, Tittup,
Has such a Lear, such a Tongue, such a Nose,
Such a — have a care on him, Tittup.
I warrant ye, Deary, the honest Freedom you allow
Is sufficient: •'ll never go farther.
You know, he dines here to day, and brings
His Musick to entertain us in the Afternoon.
Yes, yes; I must dispatch some business,
To be ready to receive him,— B'w'ye Tittup!
B'w'ye, Deary: Buss, before ye go.—
A pies! a pies! your Kisses glow! Fie, fie! I don't love ye.
'Tis my Collonel, my Peregrine, sets my Heart on fire;
And gives that warmth my old Husband found
Upon my Lips— But then such a Husband, —
So good, so honest, preventing every Wish.—
—Then such a Collonel, so handsome, so young.
So charming, — Where's the Harm to give a Worthy
Begging Stranger a little Charity from a Love's Store,
When the kind old Governor can never never miss it?