Feth. How, an Operator! why, what the Devil makes he here? some Plot upon my Lady’s Chastity; were I given to be jealous now, Danger wou’d ensue—Oh, he’s entring, I would not be seen for all the World. Oh, some place of Refuge— [Looking about. Harl. I know of none. Feth. Hah, what’s this—a Clock Case? Harl. Good, good—look you, Sir, do you do thus, and ’tis impossible to discover ye. [Goes into the Case, and shews him how to stand; then _Fetherfool_ goes in, pulls off his Periwig, his Head out, turning for the Minutes o’th’ top: his Hand out, and his Fingers pointing to a Figure. Enter _Shift_ and _Hunt_. Feth. Oh Heaven, he’s here. Shift. See where she sleeps; get you about your business, see your own little Marmoset and the Priest be ready, that we may marry and consummate before Day; and in the Morning our Friends shall see us abed together, give us the good morrow, and the Work’s done. [Ex. _Hunt_. Feth. Oh Traytor to my Bed, what a Hellish Plot’s here discover’d! [_Shift_ wakes the _Giant_. Giant. Oh, are you come, my Sweetest? Feth. Hah, the Mistress of my Bosom false too! ah, who wou’d trust faithless Beauty—oh that I durst speak. Shift. Come let’s away, your Uncle and the rest of the House are fast asleep, let’s away e’er the two Fools, Blunt and Fetherfool, arrive. 203 Giant. Hang ’em, Pigeon-hearted Slaves— Shift. A Clock—let’s see what hour ’tis— [Lifts up the Light to see, _Feth._ blows it out. —How! betray’d—I’ll kill the Villain. [Draws. Feth. Say you so, then ’tis time for me to uncase. Shift. Have you your Lovers hid? [Gets out, all groping in the dark, _Feth._ gets the _Giant_ by the Hand. Giant. Softly, or we’re undone; give me your Hand, and be undeceiv’d. Feth. ’Tis she, now shall I be reveng’d. [Leads her out. Shift. What, gone! Death, has this Monster got the Arts of Woman? [_Harl._ meets him in the dark, and plays tricks with him. [Ex. all. Enter _Willmore_ and _La Nuche_ by dark. Will. Now we are safe and free, let’s in, my Soul, and gratefully first sacrifice to Love, then to the Gods of Mirth and Wine, my Dear. [Ex. passing over the Stage. Enter _Blunt_ with _Petronella_, imbracing her, his Sword in his Hand, and a Box of Jewels. Pet. I was damnably afraid I was pursu’d. [Aside. Blunt. Something in the Fray I’ve got, pray Heaven it prove a Prize, after my cursed ill luck of losing my Lady Dwarf: Why do you tremble, fair one?—you’re in the Hands of an honest Gentleman, Adshartlikins. Pet. Alas, Sir, just as I approach! Seignior Doctor’s Door, to have my self surrounded with naked Weapons, then to drop with the fear my Casket of Jewels, which had not you by chance stumbled on and taken up, I had lost a hundred thousand Crowns with it. Blunt. Ha um—a hundred thousand Crowns—a pretty trifling Sum—I’ll many her out of hand. [Aside.