Noi.  Abus’d you,—­and traduc’d you,—­and thus we beg your pardon—­

Gay.  Abus’d me!  ’Tis more than I know, Gentlemen.

Bea.  But it seems your Friend the Devil does.

Gay.  By this time Bredwel’s married. 
—­Great Pantamogan, hold, for I am satisfied,
                                        [Ex.  Devils. 
And thus undo my Charm—­
                            [Takes away the Circle, they run out. 
So, the Fools are going, and now to Julia’s Arms.

[Going.

SCENE IV. Lady Fulbank’s Anti-chamber.

She discover’d undrest at her Glass; Sir Cautious undrest.

L. Ful.  But why to Night? indeed you’re wondrous kind methinks.

Sir Cau.  Why, I don’t know—­a Wedding is a sort of an Alarm to Love; it calls up every Man’s courage.

L. Ful.  Ay, but will it come when ’tis call’d?

Sir Cau.  I doubt you’ll find it to my Grief—­ [Aside.  —­But I think ’tis all one to thee, thou car’st not for my Complement; no, thou’dst rather have a young Fellow.

L. Ful.  I am not us’d to flatter much; if forty Years were taken from your Age, ’twou’d render you something more agreeable to my Bed, I must confess.

Sir Cau.  Ay, ay, no doubt on’t.

L. Ful.  Yet you may take my word without an Oath,
Were you as old as Time, and I were young and gay
As April Flowers, which all are fond to gather;
My Beauties all should wither in the Shade,
E’er I’d be worn in a dishonest Bosom.

Sir Cau.  Ay, but you’re wondrous free methinks, sometimes, which gives shreud suspicions.

L. Ful.  What, because I cannot simper, look demure,
and justify my Honour, when none questions it? 
—­Cry fie, and out upon the naughty Women,
Because they please themselves—­and so wou’d I.

Sir Cau.  How, wou’d, what cuckold me?

L. Ful.  Yes, if it pleas’d me better than Vertue, Sir. 
But I’ll not change my Freedom and my Humour,
To purchase the dull Fame of being honest.

Sir Cau.  Ay, but the World, the World—­

L. Ful.  I value not the Censures of the Croud.

Sir Cau.  But I am old.

L. Ful.  That’s your fault, Sir, not mine.

Sir Cau.  But being so, if I shou’d be good-natur’d, and give thee leave to love discreetly—­

L. Ful.  I’d do’t without your leave, Sir.

Sir Cau.  Do’t—­what, cuckold me?

L. Ful.  No, love discreetly, Sir, love as I ought, love honestly.

Sir Cau.  What, in love with any body, but your own Husband?

L. Ful.  Yes.

Sir Cau.  Yes, quoth a—­is that your loving as you ought?