The Old Bachelor: A Comedy

FONDLEWIFE, BARNABY.

Fond. I say I will tarry at home.

Bar. But, sir.

Fond. Good lack! I profess the spirit of contradiction hath possessed the lad—I say I will tarry at home, varlet.

Bar. I have done, sir; then farewell five hundred pound.

Fond. Ha, how’s that? Stay, stay, did you leave word, say you, with his wife? With Comfort herself?

Bar. I did; and Comfort will send Tribulation hither as soon as ever he comes home. I could have brought young Mr. Prig to have kept my mistress company in the meantime. But you say—

Fond. How, how, say, varlet! I say let him not come near my doors. I say, he is a wanton young Levite, and pampereth himself up with dainties, that he may look lovely in the eyes of women. Sincerely, I am afraid he hath already defiled the tabernacle of our sister Comfort; while her good husband is deluded by his godly appearance. I say that even lust doth sparkle in his eyes and glow upon his cheeks, and that I would as soon trust my wife with a lord’s high-fed chaplain.

Bar. Sir, the hour draws nigh, and nothing will be done here until you come.

Fond. And nothing can be done here until I go; so that I’ll tarry, de’e see.

Bar. And run the hazard to lose your affair, sir!

Fond. Good lack, good lack—I profess it is a very sufficient vexation for a man to have a handsome wife.

Bar. Never, sir, but when the man is an insufficient husband. ’Tis then, indeed, like the vanity of taking a fine house, and yet be forced to let lodgings to help pay the rent.

Fond. I profess a very apt comparison, varlet. Go and bid my Cocky come out to me; I will give her some instructions, I will reason with her before I go.