Phil. Blame me not, _Lucetta_, to keep as much of thee as I can to my self—come, that thought makes me wanton,—let’s to Bed,—Sancho, lock up these. This is the Fleece which Fools do bear, Design’d for witty Men to sheer. [Exeunt. The Scene changes, and discovers _Blunt_, creeping out of a Common Shore, his Face, &c., all dirty. Blunt. Oh Lord! [Climbing up. I am got out at last, and (which is a Miracle) without a Clue—and now to Damning and Cursing,—but if that would ease me, where shall I begin? with my Fortune, my self, or the Quean that cozen’d me—What a dog was I to believe in Women! Oh Coxcomb—ignorant conceited Coxcomb! to fancy she cou’d be enamour’d with my Person, at the first sight enamour’d—Oh, I’m a cursed Puppy,’tis plain, Fool was writ upon my Forehead, she perceiv’d it,—saw the _Essex_ Calf there—for what Allurements could there be in this Countenance? which I can indure, because I’m acquainted with it—Oh, dull silly Dog! to be thus sooth’d into a Cozening! Had I been drunk, I might fondly have credited the young Quean! but as I was in my right Wits, to be thus cheated, confirms I am a dull believing _English_ Country Fop.—But my Comrades! Death and the Devil, there’s the worst of all—then a Ballad will be sung to Morrow on the _Prado_, to a lousy Tune of the enchanted Squire, and the annihilated Damsel—But _Fred_, that Rogue, and the Colonel, will abuse me beyond all Christian patience—had she left me my Clothes, I have a Bill of Exchange 56 at home wou’d have sav’d my Credit—but now all hope is taken from me—Well, I’ll home (if I can find the way) with this Consolation, that I am not the first kind believing Coxcomb; but there are, Gallants, many such good Natures amongst ye. And tho you’ve better Arts to hide your Follies, Adsheartlikins y’are all as errant Cullies. Scene III. The Garden, in the Night. Enter _Florinda_ undres’d, with a Key, and a little Box. Flor. Well, thus far I’m in my way to Happiness; I have got my self free from _Callis_; my Brother too, I find by yonder light, is gone into his Cabinet, and thinks not of me: I have by good Fortune got the Key of the Garden Back-door,—I’ll open it, to prevent _Belvile’s_ knocking,—a little noise will now alarm my Brother. Now am I as fearful as a young Thief. [Unlocks the Door.] —Hark,—what noise is that?—Oh,’twas the Wind that plaid amongst the Boughs.—_Belvile_ stays long, methinks—it’s time—stay—for fear of a surprize, I’ll hide these Jewels in yonder Jessamin. [She goes to lay down the Box. Enter _Willmore_ drunk. Will. What the Devil is become of these Fellows, _Belvile_ and _Frederick?_ They promis’d to stay at the next corner for me, but who the Devil knows the corner of a full Moon?—Now—whereabouts am I?—hah—what have we here? a Garden!—a very convenient place to sleep in—hah—what has God sent us here?—a Female—by this light, a Woman; I’m a Dog if it be not a very Wench.— Flor. He’s come!—hah—who’s there?