Sir Feeb.  Oh—­wou’d he were gone!—­

Bel.  Fly—­be gone—­depart, vanish for ever from her to some more safe and innocent Apartment.

Sir Feeb.  Oh, that’s very hard!—­

    [He goes back trembling, Bellmour follows in with
    his Dagger up; both go out.

Let.  Blest be this kind Release, and yet methinks it grieves me to consider how the poor old Man is frighted.

[Bellmour re-enters, puts on his Coat.

Bel.—­He’s gone, and lock’d himself into his Chamber—­ And now, my dear Leticia, let us fly—­

Despair till now did my wild Heart invade,
But pitying Love has the rough Storm allay’d.

[Exeunt.

SCENE III. Sir Cautious his Garden.

Enter two Porters and Rag, bearing Gayman in a Chest;
set it down, he comes forth with a Dark-lanthorn.

Gay.  Set down the Chest behind yon hedge of Roses—­and then put on those Shapes I have appointed you—­and be sure you well-favour’dly bang both Bearjest and Noisey, since they have a mind to see the Devil.

Rag.  Oh, Sir, leave ’em to us for that; and if we do not play the Devil with ’em, we deserve they shou’d beat us.  But, Sir, we are in Sir Cautious his Garden, will he not sue us for a Trespass?

Gay.  I’ll bear you out; be ready at my Call.

[Exeunt.

—­Let me see—­I have got no ready stuff to banter with—­but no matter, any Gibberish will serve the Fools—­’tis now about the hour of Ten—­but Twelve is my appointed lucky Minute, when all the Blessings that my Soul could wish, shall be resign’d to me.

    Enter Bredwel.

—­Hah! who’s there? Bredwel?

Bred.  Oh, are you come, Sir—­and can you be so kind to a poor Youth, to favour his Designs, and bless his Days?

Gay.  Yes, I am ready here with all my Devils, both to secure you your Mistress, and to cudgel your Captain and Squire, for abusing me behind my Back so basely.

Bred.  ’Twas most unmanly, Sir, and they deserve it—­I wonder that they come not.

Gay.  How durst you trust her with him?

Bred.  Because ’tis dangerous to steal a City-Heiress, and let the Theft be his—­so the dear Maid be mine—­Hark—­sure they come—­

    Enter Bearjest, runs against Bredwel.

—­Who’s there?  Mr. Bearjest?

Bea.  Who’s that? Ned?  Well, I have brought my Mistress, hast thou got a Parson ready, and a License?

Bred.  Ay, ay, but where’s the Lady?

Bea.  In the Coach, with the Captain at the Gate.  I came before, to see if the Coast be clear.

Bred.  Ay, Sir; but what shall we do? here’s Mr. Gayman come on purpose to shew you the Devil, as you desir’d.