Bred.  Just when the Day is vanish’d into Night,
And only twinkling Stars inform the World,
Near to the Corner of the silent Wall,
In Fields of Lincoln’s-Inn, thy Spirit shall meet thee. 
—­Farewell.
               [Goes out.

Gay.  Hum—­I am awake sure, and this is Gold I grasp. 
I could not see this Devil’s cloven Foot;
Nor am I such a Coxcomb to believe,
But he was as substantial as his Gold. 
Spirits, Ghosts, Hobgoblins, Furies, Fiends and Devils,
I’ve often heard old Wives fright Fools and Children with,
Which, once arriv’d to common Sense, they laugh at. 
—­No, I am for things possible and Natural: 
Some Female Devil, old and damn’d to Ugliness,
And past all Hopes of Courtship and Address,
Full of another Devil called Desire,
Has seen this Face—­this Shape—­this Youth,
And thinks it’s worth her Hire.  It must be so: 
I must moil on in the damn’d dirty Road,
And sure such Pay will make the Journey easy: 

And for the Price of the dull drudging Night,
All Day I’ll purchase new and fresh Delight.

[Exit.

SCENE II. Sir Feeble’s House.

Enter Leticia, pursu’d by Phillis.

Phil.  Why, Madam, do you leave the Garden, For this retreat to Melancholy?

Let.  Because it suits my Fortune and my Humour; And even thy Presence wou’d afflict me now.

Phil.  Madam, I was sent after you; my Lady Fulbank has challeng’d Sir Feeble at Bowls, and stakes a Ring of fifty Pound against his new Chariot.

Let.  Tell him I wish him Luck in every thing, But in his Love to me—­ Go tell him I am viewing of the Garden.

[Ex.  Phillis.

Enter Bellmour at a distance behind her.

—­Blest be this kind Retreat, this ’lone Occasion,
That lends a short Cessation to my Torments,
And gives me leave to vent my Sighs and Tears. [Weeps.

Bel.  And doubly blest be all the Powers of Love, That give me this dear Opportunity.

Let.  Where were you, all ye pitying Gods of Love?  That once seem’d pleas’d at Bellmour’s Flame and mine, And smiling join’d our Hearts, our sacred Vows, And spread your Wings, and held your Torches high.

Bel.  Oh—­
               [She starts, and pauses.

Let.  Where were you now?  When this unequal Marriage
Gave me from all my Joys, gave me from Bellmour;
Your Wings were flag’d, your Torches bent to Earth,
And all your little Bonnets veil’d your Eyes;
You saw not, or were deaf and pitiless.

Bel.  Oh my Leticia!

Let.  Hah, ’tis there again; that very voice was Bellmour’s: 
Where art thou, Oh thou lovely charming Shade? 
For sure thou canst not take a Shape to fright me. 
—­What art thou?—­speak!
              [Not looking behind her yet for fear.