Bel. Oh, haste, the Minutes fly—leave all behind. And bring Leticia only to my Arms. [A noise of People. —Hah, what noise is that? ‘Tis coming this way, I tremble with my fears—hah, Death and the Devil, ’.is he—

Enter Sir Feeble and his Men arm’d, goes to the door, knocks.

Ay, ‘tis he, and I’m undone—what shall I do to kill him now? besides, the Sin wou’d put me past all Hopes of pardoning.

Sir Feeb. A damn’d Rogue to deceive me thus.—

Bel. Hah—see, by Heaven Leticia, Oh, we are ruin’d!

Sir Feeb. Hum—what’s here, two Women?— [Stands a little off.

Enter Leticia and Phillis softly, undrest, with a Box.

Let. Where are you, my best Wishes? Lord of my Vows—and Charmer of my Soul? Where are you?

Bel. Oh, Heavens!— [Draws his Sword half-way.

Sir Feeb. Hum, who’s here? My Gentlewoman—she’s monstrous kind of the sudden. But whom is’t meant to? [Aside.

Let. Give me your hand, my Love, my Life, my All—Alas! where are you?

Sir Feeb. Hum—no, no, this is not to me—I am jilted, cozen’d, cuckolded, and so forth.— [Groping, she takes hold of Sir Feeb.

Let. Oh, are you here? indeed you frighted me with your Silence—here, take these Jewels, and let us haste away.

Sir Feeb. Hum—are you thereabouts, Mistress? was I sent away with a Sham-Plot for this!—She cannot mean it to me. [Aside.

Let. Will you not speak?—will you not answer me?—do you repent already?—before Enjoyment are you cold and false?

Sir Feeb. Hum, before Enjoyment—that must be me. Before Injoyment— Ay, ay, ‘tis I—I see a little Prolonging a Woman’s Joy, sets an Edge upon her Appetite. [Merrily.

Let. What means my Dear? shall we not haste away?

Sir Feeb. Haste away! there ‘tis again—No—’tis not me she means: what, at your Tricks and Intrigues already?—Yes, yes, I am destin’d a Cuckold—

Let. Say, am I not your Wife? can you deny me?

Sir Feeb. Wife! adod, ‘tis I she means—’tis I she means—[Merrily.

Let. Oh Bellmour, Bellmour.

[_Sir Feeb. starts back from her hands_.

Sir Feeb. Hum—what’s that—Bellmour!

Let. Hah! Sir Feeble!—he would not, Sir, have us’d me thus unkindly.

Sir Feeb. Oh—I’m glad ‘tis no worse—Bellmour, quoth a! I thought the Ghost was come again.

Phil. Why did you not speak, Sir, all this while?—my Lady weeps with your Unkindness.

Sir Feeb. I did but hold my peace, to hear how prettily she prattled Love: But, fags, you are naught to think of a young Fellow—ads bobs, you are now.

Let. I only say—he wou’d not have been so unkind to me.

Sir Feeb. But what makes ye out at this Hour, and with these Jewels?

Phil. Alas, Sir, we thought the City was in Arms, and packt up our things to secure ‘em, if there had been a necessity for Flight. For had they come to plundering once, they wou’d have begun with the rich Aldermen’s Wives, you know, Sir.

Sir Feeb. Ads bobs, and so they would—but there was no Arms, nor Mutiny—where’s Francis?

Bel. Here, Sir.

Sir Feeb. Here, Sir—why, what a story you made of a Meeting in the Hall, and—Arms, and—a—the Devil of any thing was stirring, but a couple of old Fools, that sat gaping and waiting for one another’s business—

Bel. Such a Message was brought me, Sir.

Sir Feeb. Brought! thou’rt an Ass, Francis—but no more—come, come, let’s to bed—

Let. To Bed, Sir! what, by Day-light?—for that’s hasting on—I wou’d not for the World—the Night wou’d hide my Blushes—but the Day—wou’d let me see my self in your Embraces.

Sir Feeb. Embraces, in a Fiddlestick; why, are we not married?

Let. ‘Tis true, Sir, and Time will make me more familiar with you, but yet my Virgin Modesty forbids it. I’ll to Diana’s Chamber, the Night will come again.

Sir Feeb. For once you shall prevail; and this damn’d Jant has pretty well mortified me:—a Pox of your Mutiny, Francis.—Come, I’ll conduct thee to Diana, and lock thee in, that I may have thee safe, Rogue.—

We’ll give young Wenches leave to whine and blush, And fly those Blessings which—ads bobs, they wish.

[Exeunt.