Scene II A Room in Sir Davy Dunce’s House
Enter Sir Davy Dunce.
Sir Dav. Troth, I had forgot my medal and chain, quite, and clean forgot my relic; I was forced to come up these back stairs, for fear of meeting my wife again; it is the troublesomest loving fool! I must into my closet, and write a short letter too; ’tis post-night, I had forgot that: well, I would not have my wife catch me for a guinea. [Exit.
Enter Beaugard and Lady Dunce.
Beau. Are you very certain, madam, nobody is this way? I fancy, as we entered, I saw the glimpse of something more than ordinary.
L. Dunce. Is it your care of me, or your personal fears, that make you so suspicious? Whereabouts was the apparition?
Beau. There, there, just at the very door.
L. Dunce. Fie for shame! that’s Sir Davy’s closet; and he, I am satisfied, is far enough off by this time. I’m sure I heard the coach drive him away. But to convince you, you shall see now: Sir Davy, Sir Davy, Sir Davy. [Knocking at the closet-door.] Look you there, you a captain, and afraid of a shadow! Come, sir, shall we call for the cards?
Beau. And what shall we play for, pretty one?
L. Dunce. E’en what you think best, sir.
Beau. Silver kisses, or golden joys? Come, let us make stakes a little.
Enter Sir Jolly Jumble, unobserved.
Sir Jol. Ah rogue, ah rogue! are you there? Have I caught you in faith, now, now, now? [Aside.
L. Dunce. And who shall keep them?
Beau. You, till Sir Davy returns from supper.
L. Dunce. That may be long enough; for our engine Fourbin has orders not to give him over suddenly, I assure you.
Beau. And is’t to yourself, then, I’m obliged for this blest opportunity? Let us improve it to love’s best advantage.
Sir Jol. Ah—ah! [Aside.
Beau. Let’s vow eternal, and raise our thoughts to expectation of immortal pleasures: in one another’s eyes let’s read our joys, till we’ve no longer power o’er our desires, drunk with this dissolving. Oh!
Re-enter Sir Davy Dunce from his closet.
L. Dunce. Ah! [Squeaks.
Beau. By this light, the cuckold! Presto, nay, then halloo! [Gets up, and runs away.
Sir Dav. O Lord, a man—a man in my wife’s chamber! Murder! murder! Thieves! thieves! shut up my doors! Madam! madam! madam!
Sir Jol. Ay, ay! Thieves! thieves! Murder! murder! Where, neighbour, where, where?
L. Dunce. [Catches up Beaugard’s sword, which he had left behind him in the hurry, and presents it to Sir Davy.] Pierce, pierce this wretched heart hard to the hilts; dye this in the deepest crimson of my blood; spare not a miserable woman’s life, whom Heaven designed to be the unhappy object of the most horrid usage man e’er acted.
Sir Dav. What, in the name of Satan, does she mean now?
L. Dunce. Curse on my fatal beauty! blasted ever be these two baneful eyes, that could inspire a barbarous villain to attempt such crimes as all my blood’s too little to atone for: nay, you shall hear me—
Sir Dav. Hear you, madam! No, I have seen too much, I thank you heartily; hear you, quoth-a!
L. Dunce. Yes, and before I die too, I’ll be justified.
Sir Dav. Justified, O Lord, justified!
L. Dunce. Notice being given me of your return, I came with speed to this unhappy place, where I have oft been blest with your embraces, when from behind the arras out starts Beaugard; how he came there Heaven knows.
Sir Dav. I’ll have him hanged for burglary; he has broken my house, and broke the peace upon my wife: very good.
L. Dunce. Straight in his arms he grasped me fast; with much ado I plunged and got my freedom, ran to your closet-door, knocked and implored your aid, called on your name; but all in vain—
Sir Dav. Ha!
L. Dunce. Soon again he seized me, stopped my mouth, and, with a conqueror’s fury—
Sir Dav. O Lord! O Lord! no more, no more, I beseech thee; I shall grow mad, and very mad! I’ll plough up rocks and adamantine iron bars; I’ll crack the frame of nature, sally out like Tamberlane upon the Trojan horse, and drive the pigmies all like geese before me. O Lord, stop her mouth! Well, and how? and what then? stopped thy mouth! well! ha!
L. Dunce. No, though unfortunate, I still am innocent; his cursed purpose could not be accomplished; but who will live so injured? No, I’ll die to be revenged on myself: I ne’er can hope that I may see his streaming gore; and thus I let out my own— [Offers to run upon the sword.
Sir Dav. Ha, what wouldst thou do, my love? Pr’ythee don’t break my heart: if thou wilt kill, kill me; I know thou art innocent, I see thou art; though I had rather be a cuckold a thousand times, than lose thee, poor love, poor dearee, poor baby.
Sir Jol. Alack-a-day! [Weeps.
L. Dunce. Ah me!
Sir Dav. Ah, pr’ythee be comforted now, pr’ythee do; why, I’ll love thee the better for this, for all this, mun; why shouldst be troubled for another’s ill doings? I know it was no fault of thine.
Sir Jol. No, no more it was not, I dare swear. [Aside.
Sir Dav. See, see, my neighbour weeps too; he’s troubled to see thee thus.
L. Dunce. Oh, but revenge!
Sir Dav. Why, thou shalt have revenge; I’ll have him murdered; I’ll have his throat cut before to-morrow morning, child: rise now, pr’ythee rise.
Sir Jol. Ay, do, madam, and smile upon Sir Davy.
L. Dunce. But will you love me then as well as e’er you did?
Sir Dav. Ay, and the longest day I live too.
L. Dunce. And shall I have justice done me on that prodigious monster?
Sir Dav. Why, he shall be crows’-meat by to-morrow night; I tell thee he shall be crows’-meat by midnight, chicken.
L. Dunce. Then I will live; since so, ’tis something pleasant:
When I in peace may lead a happy life
With such a husband—
Sir Dav. I with such a wife. [Exeunt.
Footnotes
40 Rosamond’s Pond (not Ponds) was at the S.W. side of St. James’s Park. It was filled up more than a century ago.