Bell. Fatigu’d with the most disagreeable Affair, for a Person of my Humour, in the World. Oh, how I hate Business, which I do no more mind, than a Spark does the Sermon, who is ogling his Mistress at Church all the while: I have been ruffling over twenty Reams of Paper for my Uncle’s Writings.

Enter Scaramouch.

Scar. So, so, the old Gentleman is departed this wicked World, and the House is our own for this Night.—Where are the Sparks? where are the Sparks?

Ela. Nay, Heaven knows.

Bell. How! I hope not so; I left Charmante confin’d to my Closet, when my Uncle had like to have surpriz’d us together: Is he not here?

Ela. No, he’s escap’d, but he has made sweet doings.

Bell. Heavens, Cousin! What?

Ela. My Father was coming into the Chamber, and had like to have taken Cinthio with me, when, to conceal him, I put him into your Closet, not knowing of Charmante’s being there, and which, in the dark, he took for a Gallant of mine; had not my Father’s Presence hinder’d, I believe there had been Murder committed; however they both escap’d unknown.

Scar. Pshaw, is that all? Lovers Quarrels are soon Adjusted; I’ll to ’.m, unfold the Riddle, and bring ‘em back—take no care, but go in and dress you for the Ball; Mopsophil has Habits which your Lovers sent to put on: the Fiddles, Treat, and all are prepar’d. [Exit.

Enter Mopsophil.

Mop. Madam, your Cousin Florinda, with a Lady, are come to visit you.

Bell. I’m glad on’t, ‘tis a good Wench, and we’ll trust her with our Mirth and Secret.

[They go out.