Bel. The Night is come, oh my Leticia! The longing Bridegroom hastens to his Bed; Whilst she with all the languishment of Love, And sad Despair, casts her fair Eyes on me, Which silently implore, I would deliver her. But how! ay, there’s the Question—hah— [Pausing. I’ll get my self hid in her Bed-chamber— And something I will do—may serve us yet— If all my Arts should fail—I’ll have recourse [Draws a dagger. To this—and bear Leticia off by force. —But see she comes—

Enter Lady Fulbank, Sir Cautious, Sir Feeble, Leticia, Bearjest, Noisey, Gayman. Exit Bellmour.

Sir Feeb. Lights there, Ralph. And my Lady’s Coach there—

[Bearjest goes to Gayman.

Bea. Well, Sir, remember you have promised to grant me my diabolical Request, in shewing me the Devil—

Gay. I will not fail you, Sir.

L. Ful. Madam, your Servant; I hope you’ll see no more Ghosts, Sir Feeble.

Sir Feeb. No more of that, I beseech you, Madam: Prithee, Sir Cautious, take away your Wife—Madam, your Servant— [All go out after the Light. —Come, Lette, Lette; hasten, Rogue, hasten to thy Chamber; away, here be the young Wenches coming— [Puts her out, he goes out.

Enter Diana, puts on her Hood and Scarf.

Dia. So—they are gone to Bed; and now for Bredwel —the Coach waits, and I’ll take this opportunity.

Father, farewell—if you dislike my course, Blame the old rigid Customs of your Force.

[Goes out.