FOND. O traitor! I'm astonished. O bloody-minded traitor!

SIR JO. Hey-day! Traitor yourself. By the Lord Harry, I was in
most danger of being ravished, 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 Bel and the Dragon.-
-Bless us! ravish my wife! my Dinah! Oh, Shechemite! Begone, I
say.

SIR JO. Why, the devil's in the people, I think.


SCENE XIX.


LAETITIA, FONDLEWIFE

LAET. 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.

LAET. 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 a
sad fit of the colic, 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 papers--I won't