Sir Tim.  This is something—­Oh, I’m impatient to be with her—­Well, I must in, and make some Lye to Betty for my Absence, and be with you presently.
              [Exit Sir Tim.

Sharp.  What Design hast thou in hand? for I suppose there is no such real thing as debauching of this Lady.

Sham.  Look ye, Sharp, take to thee an implicit Faith, and believe Impossibilities; for thou and I must cozen this Knight.

Sharp.  What, our Patron?

Sham.  Ay, Sharp, we are bound to labour in our Callings, but mum—­ here he comes.

Enter Sir Timothy.

Sir Tim.  Come, let’s away, my Lyoness begins to roar.—­You, Sharp, go seek after Bellmour, watch his Motions, and give us notice.

[Exeunt.

Flaunt.  He is gone, and I believe [Betty Flauntit peeping out.] for no Goodness; I’ll after him, and watch him.

[Exit cross the Stage.

SCENE II. Lord Plotwell’s House.

Enter Lord Plotwell, Charles, Trusty, and two Servants.

Lord.  In a Baudy-house, with Whores, Hectors, and Dice!  Oh, that I should be so deceiv’d in Mankind, he whom I thought all Virtue and Sobriety!  But go some of you immediately, and take Officers along with you, and remove his Quarters from a Baudy-house to a Prison:  charge him with the Murder of his Wife.

Char.  My Lord, when I demanded her, he said indeed that she was dead, and kill’d by him; but this I guess was the Effects of Madness, which Debauchery, and want of Sleep has brought him to.

Lord.  That shall be try’d; go to the Place where Charles has directed you, and do as I command you.

[Ex.  Servants.

—­Oh, sweet Diana, in whom I had plac’d my absolute Delight,
And gave thee to this Villain, because I wish’d thee happy. 
And are my Expectations fall’n to this? 
Upon his Wedding Night to abandon thee,
And shew his long dissembled natural Leudness!

Char.  My Lord, I hope, ’tis not his natural Temper;
For e’er we parted, from a brutal Rudeness,
He grew to all the Softness Grief could dictate. 
He talkt of breach of Vows, of Death, and Ruin,
And dying at the Feet of a wrong’d Maid;
I know not what he meant.

Lord.  Ay, there’s his Grief; there is some jilting Hussy has drawn him in; but I’ll revenge my self on both.

    Enter Page.

Page.  A Letter for your Lordship.

Lord reads.

My LORD,

As your Goodness has been ever great towards me, so I
humbly beseech you to continue it; and the greatest Proofs you
can give me of it, is to use all your Interest to undo that tye
between Bellmour and my self, which with such Joy you
knit.  I will say no more, but as you love my Life, and my
dearer Honour, get a Divorce, or you will see both ruin’d in

                                                                                      Your Diana.