_Enter ~Rasor~ in Sackcloth, pulling in ~Lady Fancyfull~ and ~Madamoiselle~._ _Rasor._ If they won't, here comes an Interpreter. _Lady Brute._ Heavens! what have we here? _Rasor._ A Villain----but a repenting Villain. Stuff which Saints in all Ages have been made of. _All._ Rasor! _Lady Brute._ What means this sudden Metamorphose? _Rasor._ Nothing, without my Pardon. _Lady Brute._ What Pardon do you want? _Rasor._ _Imprimis_, Your Ladyship's; for a damnable Lie made upon your spotless Virtue, and set to the Tune of _Spring-Garden_. [_To Sir ~John~._] Next, at my generous Master's Feet I bend, for interrupting his more noble Thoughts with Phantoms of disgraceful Cuckoldom. [_To ~Const~._] Thirdly, I to this Gentleman apply, for making him the Hero of my Romance. [_To ~Heart~._] Fourthly, your Pardon, noble Sir, I ask, for clandestinely marrying you, without either bidding of Banns, Bishop's Licence, Friends Consent----or your own Knowledge. [_To ~Bel~._] And, lastly, to my good young Lady's Clemency I come, for pretending the Corn was sow'd in the Ground, before ever the Plough had been in the Field. _Sir John._ [_Aside._] So that, after all, 'tis a moot point, whether I am a Cuckold or not. _Bel._ Well, Sir, upon Condition you confess all, I'll pardon you myself, and try to obtain as much from the rest of the Company. But I must know, then, who 'tis has put you upon all this Mischief? _Rasor._ Satan, and his Equipage; Woman tempted me, Lust weakened me----and so the Devil over-came me; as fell _Adam_, so fell I. _Bel._ Then pray, Mr. _Adam_, will you make us acquainted with your _Eve_? _Rasor._ [_To ~Madam~._] Unmask, for the Honour of _France_. _All._ Madamoiselle! _Madam._ Me ask ten tousand Pardon of all de good Company. _Sir John._ Why, this Mystery thickens, instead of clearing up. [_To ~Rasor~._] You Son of a Whore, you, put us out of our Pain. _Rasor._ One Moment brings Sunshine. [_Shewing ~Madam~._] 'Tis true, this is the Woman that tempted me, but this is the Serpent that tempted the Woman; and if my Prayers might be heard, her Punishment for so doing shou'd be like the Serpent's of old--[_Pulls off Lady ~Fancyfull~'s Mask._] She should lie upon her Face all the Days of her Life. _All._ Lady _Fancyfull_! _Bel._ Impertinent! _Lady Brute._ Ridiculous! _All._ Ha! ha! ha! ha! ha! _Bel._ I hope your Ladyship will give me leave to wish you Joy, since you have own'd your Marriage yourself--[_To ~Heart~._] I vow 'twas strangely wicked in you to think of another Wife, when you had one already so charming as her Ladyship. _All._ Ha! ha! ha! ha! ha! _Lady Fan._ [_Aside._] Confusion seize 'em, as it seizes me! Madam. _Que le Diable e toute ce Mauraut de ~Rasor~._ _Bel._ Your Ladyship seems disorder'd: A breeding Qualm, perhaps, Mr. _Heartfree_: Your Bottle of Hungary Water to your Lady. Why, Madam, he stands as unconcern'd, as if he were your Husband in earnest.