Sir Cau.  Oh—­undone,—­undone; help, help;—­I’m dead, I’m dead.
    [Falls down on his Face; Sir Feeble stares,—­and stands still.

Bred.  As I could wish. [Aside, turns.  Come on, thou ghastly thing, and follow me.

    Enter Gayman like a Ghost, with a Torch.

Sir Cau.  Oh Lord, oh Lord!

Gay.  Hah!—­old Sir Feeble Fainwou’d—­why, where the Devil am I?  —­’Tis he:—­and be it where it will, I’ll fright the old Dotard for cozening my Friend of his Mistress. [Stalks on.

Sir Feeb.  Oh, guard me,—­guard me—­all ye Pow’rs! [Trembling.

Gay.  Thou call’st in vain, fond Wretch—­for I am Bellmour,

  Whom first thou robb’st of Fame and Life,
  And then what dearer was,—­his Wife.

[Goes out, shaking his Torch at him.

Sir Cau.  Oh Lord—­oh Lord!

    Enter L.  Fulbank in an undress, and Pert undrest.

L. Ful.  Heavens, what noise is this?—­So he’s got safe out I see—­hah, what thing art thou? [Sees Sir Feeble_ arm’d_.

Sir Feeb.  Stay, Madam, stay—­’tis I, a poor trembling Mortal.

L. Ful.  Sir Feeble Fainwou’d!—­rise,—­are you both mad?

Sir Cau.  No, no,—­Madam, we have seen the Devil.

Sir Feeb.  Ay, and he was as tall as the Monument.

Sir Cau.  With Eyes like a Beacon—­and a Mouth,—­Heaven bless us, like London Bridge at a full Tide.

Sir Feeb.  Ay, and roar’d as loud.

L. Ful.  Idle Fancies, what makes you from your Bed? and you, Sir, from your Bride?

    Enter Dick with Sack.

Sir Feeb.  Oh! that’s the business of another day, a mistake only, Madam.

L. Ful.  Away, I’m asham’d to see wise Men so weak; the Fantoms of the Night, or your own Shadows, the Whimseys of the Brain for want of Rest, or perhaps Bredwel, your Man—­who being wiser than his Master, play’d you this Trick to fright you both to Bed.

Sir Feeb.  Hum—­adod, and that may be, for the young Knave when he let me in to Night, was drest up for some Waggery—­

Sir Cau.  Ha, ha, ha, ’twas even so, sure enough, Brother—­

Sir Feeb.  Ads bobs, but they frighted me at first basely—­but I’ll home to Pupsey, there may be Roguery, as well as here—­Madam, I ask your Pardon, I see we’re all mistaken.

L. Ful.  Ay, Sir Feeble, go home to your Wife.

[Ex. severally.

SCENE VI. The Street.

Enter Bellmour at the door, knocks, and enter to him
from the House, Phillis.

Phil.  Oh, are you come, Sir?  I’ll call my Lady down.