At Night the poor deluded _Cully_ comes to the _Goldsmith's_, according to appointment; and was conducted presently up Stairs; where, he might the less suspect foul Play, he finds a good Collation was proyided, which he and his false Mistress feasted at, _she urging him to make haste into Bed, that there they might have more delicious Dainties_, and she beginning to undress her self, he made most haste and first got into Bed; and then the Maid (as she was before directed) having privately carry'd off the Sword, comes running in upon a sudden, and cries out, _O Mistress, we are all undone! My Master's coming up Stairs_. Up gets the Quaking Beau immediately, and runs under the Bed, which he had but just done, before the _Goldsmith_ enter'd: Who seeing of his Wife, Accosts her thus, _My Dear I'm come a Day sooner than I expected_,--_You're very Welcome, Love_, said she again, looking as one surpriz'd, at which, cries he, _Why how now? What's the matter with you?_ And then looking about the Chamber, he sees a very Beauish Powder'd Wig; _Ah ha!_ says he; _What have we here? A Wig, new Powder'd! Pray whose Wig is this? I'm sure 'tis none of mine_; then looking on the Bed, he sees a pair of Breeches lie, _Hey dey!_ Cries he, _Pray whose are these?_ _They're yours_, said she, _for ought I know_, (speaking a little surlily) _whose shou'd they be, d'ye think?_ _They're none of mine_, says he, _I'm sure; But let me see, what is there in 'em?_--Then searching of the Pockets, he pulls out a Gold Watch, about Nine or Ten Guineas, a Silver Snush-Box, and several Pick-Locks: As soon as he perceiv'd the Pick-Locks, _So, so_, cries he, _here's a fine Trade indeed! Cou'd you get none to serve you, but some Newgate-Stallion; One that us'd to Break up Houses, and Pick open Locks! Where is this Villain_, says he, _that Wrongs my Bed, and thus dishonours me, that I may run my Sword into his Heart, and send him of an Errand to the Devil?_