Serv. Truly, she flies about the room as if she had wings instead of legs; I believe she’s just turning into a bird:—­A house bird I warrant her:—­And so hasty to fly to you, that, rather than fail of entrance, she would come tumbling down the chimney, like a swallow.

  Enter MORAYMA.

Ant. [Running to her, and embracing her.] Look, if she be not here already!—­What, no denial it seems will serve your turn?  Why, thou little dun, is thy debt so pressing?

Mor. Little devil, if you please:  Your lease is out, good master conjurer, and I am come to fetch your soul and body; not an hour of lewdness longer in this world for you.

Ant. Where the devil hast thou been? and how the devil didst thou find me here?

Mor. I followed you into the castle-yard, but there was nothing but tumult and confusion:  and I was bodily afraid of being picked up by some of the rabble; considering I had a double charge about me,—­my jewels, and my maidenhead.

Ant. Both of them intended for my worship’s sole use and property.

Mor. And what was poor little I among them all?

Ant. Not a mouthful a-piece:  ’Twas too much odds, in conscience!

Mor. So, seeking for shelter, I naturally ran to the old place of assignation, the garden-house; where, for the want of instinct, you did not follow me.

Ant. Well, for thy comfort, I have secured thy father; and I hope thou hast secured his effects for us.

Mor. Yes, truly, I had the prudent foresight to consider, that, when we grow old, and weary of solacing one another, we might have, at least, wherewithal to make merry with the world; and take up with a worse pleasure of eating and drinking, when we were disabled for a better.

Ant. Thy fortune will be even too good for thee; for thou art going into the country of serenades and gallantries, where thy street will be haunted every night with thy foolish lovers, and my rivals, who will be sighing and singing, under thy inexorable windows, lamentable ditties, and call thee cruel, and goddess, and moon, and stars, and all the poetical names of wicked rhime; while thou and I are minding our business, and jogging on, and laughing at them, at leisure minutes, which will be very few; take that by way of threatening.

Mor. I am afraid you are not very valiant, that you huff so much beforehand.  But, they say, your churches are fine places for love-devotion; many a she-saint is there worshipped.

Ant. Temples are there, as they are in all other countries, good conveniences for dumb interviews.  I hear the protestants are not much reformed in that point neither; for their sectaries call their churches by the natural name of meeting-houses.  Therefore I warn thee in good time, not more of devotion than needs must, good future spouse, and always in a veil; for those eyes of thine are damned enemies to mortification.