Sir Cau.  Why, have you seen it since, Brother?

Sir Feeb.  In Imagination, Sir.

Bel.  How, Sir, a Devil?

Sir Feeb.  Ay, or a Ghost.

Bel.  Where, good Sir?

Bea.  Ay, where?  I’d travel a hundred Mile to see a Ghost—­

Bel.  Sure, Sir, ’twas Fancy.

Sir Feeb.  If ’twere a Fancy, ’twas a strong one; and Ghosts and Fancy are all one if they can deceive.  I tell you—­if ever I thought in my Life—­I thought I saw a Ghost—­Ay, and a damnable impudent Ghost too; he said he was a—­a Fellow here—­they call Bellmour.

Bel.  How, Sir!

Bea.  Well, I wou’d give the world to see the Devil, provided he were a civil affable Devil, such an one as Wasteall’s Acquaintance is—­

Sir Cau.  He can show him too soon, it may be.  I’m sure as civil as he is, he helps him to steal my Gold, I doubt—­and to be sure—­Gentlemen, you say he’s a Gamester—­I desire when he comes anon, that you wou’d propose to sport a Dye, or so—­and we’ll fall to play for a Teaster, or the like—­and if he sets any money, I shall go near to know my own Gold, by some remarkable Pieces amongst it; and if he have it, I’ll hang him, and then all his six hundred a Year will be my own, which I have in Mortgage.

Bea.  Let the Captain and I alone to top upon him—­mean time, Sir, I have brought my Musick, to entertain my Mistress with a Song.

Sir Feeb.  Take your own methods, Sir—­they are at leisure—­while we go drink their Healths within.  Adod, I long for night, we are not half in kelter, this damn’d Ghost will not out of my Head yet.

[Exeunt all but Bellmour.

Bel.  Hah—­a Ghost! what can he mean?  A Ghost, and Bellmour’s! 
—­Sure my good Angel, or my Genius,
In pity of my Love, and of Leticia—­
But see Leticia comes, but still attended—­

Enter Leticia, Lady Fulbank, Diana.

—­Remember—­oh, remember to be true?
                   [Aside to her, passing by goes out.

L. Ful.  I was sick to know with what Christian Patience you bore the
Martyrdom of this Night.

Let.  As those condemn’d bear the last Hour of Life.  A short Reprieve I had—­and by a kind Mistake, Diana only was my Bedfellow—­ [Weeps.

Dia.  And I wish for your Repose you ne’er had seen my Father.
          
                                                     [Weeps.

Let.  And so do I, I fear he has undone me—­

Dia.  And me, in breaking of his word with Bredwel—­

L. Ful.—­So—­as Trincolo says, wou’d you were both hang’d for me, for putting me in mind of my Husband.  For I have e’en no better luck than either of you—­Let our two Fates warn your approaching one:  I love young Bredwel and must plead for him.