Set.  Where is the grateful sense of all your favours?  Come, fiends, with flesh-hooks, tear the wretch in pieces, And bear his soul upon your leather wings, Below the fountain of the dark abyss.

Lov.  What, are you a-conjuring?  If you are good at that sport, I can conjure as well as you—­[Draws his sword.

Const.  Hold; for Heaven’s sake, hold!  I am no spirit; touch but my hand; ghosts have no flesh and blood. [Discovering.

Lov.  My lady Constance!  I began to suspect it might be a trick, but never could imagine you the author.  It seems you are desirous I should father this hans en kelder here?

Const.  I know not how, without a blush, to tell you, it was a cheat I practised for your love.

Set.  A mere tympany, sir, raised by a cushion; you see ’tis gone already.

Const.  Setstone was sent to have acquainted you; but, by the way, unfortunately missed you.

Lev.  Twas you, then, that supplied me all this while with money? pretty familiar, I hope to make thee amends ere I sleep to-night.  Come, parson, pr’ythee make haste and join us.  I long to be out of her debt, poor rogue.

[The parson takes them to the side of the stage; they turn their backs to the audience, while he mumbles to them.

Set.  I’ll be the clerk; Amen—­give you joy, Mr Bridegroom, and Mrs Bride.

Lov.  Const.  Thanks, honest Setstone.

[BIBBER, FRANCES, and music without—­they play.

Music.  God give your worship a good even, Mr Loveby.

Const.  Hark! what noise is that!  Is this music of your providing, Setstone?

Set.  Alas, madam, I know nothing of it.

Lov.  We are betrayed to your father; but the best on’t is, he comes too late to hinder us—­fear not, madam, I’ll bear you through them all.

[As they rush out, BIBBER, FRANCES, and Music are entering in; BIBBER and FRANCES are beaten down.—­Exeunt LOVEBY; CONSTANCE, SETSTONE, and Parson.

All cry out.  Oh the devil! the devil! the devil!

Bib.  Lord bless us, where are you, Frances!

Fran.  Here, William! this is a judgment, as they say, upon you, William, for trusting wits, and calling gentlemen to the tavern, William.

Bib.  No; ’twas a judgment upon you, for desiring preferment at court, Frances.  Let’s call up the watch, and Justice Trice, to have the house searched.

Fran.  Ay, ay; there’s more devils there, I warrant you. [Exeunt.

Enter LOVEBY, CONSTANCE, and SETSTONE again.

Lov.  It was certainly Will Bibber and his wife, with music; for, now I remember myself, I ’pointed him this hour at your father’s house:  but we frighted them worse than they frighted us.