_Lov._ I am very well pleas'd with my Trick thus far, and shall be so till I have play'd it out, if it ben't your Fault: where's my Wife? _Ber._ At Cards. _Lov._ With whom? _Ber._ With _Worthy_. _Lov._ Then we are safe enough. _Ber._ You are so! Some Husbands wou'd be of another mind, if he were at Cards with their Wives. _Lov._ And they'd be in the right on't too. But I dare trust mine:----Besides, I know he's in love in another place, and he's not one of those who court half a dozen at a time. _Ber._ Nay, the truth on't is, you'd pity him if you saw how uneasy he is at being engag'd with us; but 'twas my Malice. I fancy'd he was to meet his Mistress some where else, so did it to have the pleasure of seeing him fret. _Lov._ What says _Amanda_ to my staying abroad so late? _Ber._ Why she's as much out of Humour as he, I believe they wish one another at the Devil. _Lov._ Then I'm afraid they'll quarrel at Play, and soon throw up the Cards: [_Offering in pull her into her Closet._] Therefore, my dear charming Angel, let us make good use of our time. _Ber._ Heavens! what do you mean? _Lov._ Pray what do you think I mean? _Ber._ I don't know. _Lov._ I'll shew you. _Ber._ You may as well tell me. _Lov._ No, that wou'd make you blush worse than t'other. _Ber._ Why, do you intend to make me blush? _Lov._ Faith, I can't tell that; but if I do, it shall be in the dark. [_Pulling her._ _Ber._ O Heavens! I wou'd not be in the dark with you for all the World. _Lov._ I'll try that. [_Puts out the Candles._ _Ber._ O Lord! are you mad! What shall I do for Light? _Lov._ You'll do as well without it. _Ber._ Why, one can't find a Chair to sit down? _Lov._ Come into the Closet, Madam, there's Moonshine upon the Couch. _Ber._ Nay, never pull, for I will not go. _Lov._ Then you must be carried. [_Carrying her._ _Ber._ Help, help, I'm ravish'd, ruin'd, undone. O Lord, I shall never be able to bear it. [_Very softly._ +SCENE+, _Sir ~Tunbelly~'s House_. _Enter Miss ~Hoyden~, Nurse, ~Young Fashion~, and ~Bull~._ _Young Fash._ This quick dispatch of yours, Mr. _Bull_, I take so kindly, it shall give you a claim to my Favour as long as I live, I do assure you. _Miss._ And to mine too, I promise you. _Bull._ I most humbly thank your Honours; and I hope, since it has been my Lot to join you in the holy Bands of Wedlock, you will so well cultivate the Soil which I have crav'd a Blessing on, that your Children may swarm about you like Bees about a Honey-Comb. _Miss._ I'cod with all my Heart, the more the merrier, I say; ha, Nurse. _Enter ~Lory~, taking his Master hastily aside._ _Lo._ One Word with you, for Heaven's sake. _Young Fash._ What the Devil's the matter?