[_They going out, meet Sir_ Anthony _with Musick: they return_. Sir _Anth_. Come, come, Gentlemen, this is the House, and this the Window belonging to my Lady’s Bed-chamber: Come, come, let’s have some neat, soft, brisk, languishing, sprightly Air now. _Fop_. Old Meriwill--how shall I pass by him! [_Stand by_. Sir _Anth_. So, here’s Company too; ‘tis very well--Not have the Boy? I’ll warrant this does the Business--Come, come, screw up your Chitterling. [_They play_. --Hold, hold a little--Good morrow, my Lady _Galliard_. --Give your Ladyship Joy. _Char_. What do I hear, my Lady _Galliard_ joy’d? _Fop_. How, married her already? _Char_. Oh, yes, he has. Lovely and false, hast thou deceiv’d my Faith? Mrs. _Clack_. Oh, Heavens, Mr. _Foppington_, she faints.--ah me! [_They hold her, Musick plays. Enter_ Wilding _and_ Dresswell, _disguis’d as before_. _Wild_. Ah, Musick at _Galliard’s_ Door! Sir _Anth_. Good morrow, Sir _Charles Meriwill_: give your Worship and your fair Lady Joy. _Wild_. Hah, Meriwill married the Widow! _Dres_. No matter; prithee advance, and mind thy own Affairs. _Wild_. Advance, and not inquire the meaning on’t! Bid me not eat, when Appetite invites me; Not draw, when branded with the Name of Coward; Nor love, when Youth and Beauty meet my Eyes-- Hah!-- [_Sees Sir_ Charles _come into the Balcony undrest_. Sir _Char_. Good morrow, Uncle. Gentlemen, I thank ye: Here, drink the King’s Health, with my Royal Master’s the Duke. [_Gives ‘em Money_. _Fid_. Heaven bless your Honour, and your virtuous Bride. _Fop. Wilding_! undone. [_Shelters_ Charlot, _that she may not see_ Wilding. _Wild_. Death and the Devil, Meriwill above! Sir _Anth_. Ah, the Boy’s Rival here! By George, here may be breathing this Morning--No matter, here’s two to two; come, Gentlemen, you must in. [_Thrusts the Musick in, and goes in_. _Dres_. Is’t not what you expected? nay, what you wisht? _Wild_. What then? it comes too suddenly upon me-- E’er my last Kiss was cold upon her Lips, Before the pantings of her Breast were laid, Rais’d by her joys with me; Oh, damn’d deluding Woman! _Dres_. Be wise, and do not ruin where you love. _Wild_. Nay, if thou com’st to reasoning, thou hast lost me. [_Breaks from him, and runs in_. _Char_. I say ‘twas _Wilding’s_ Voice, and I will follow it. _Fop_. How, Madam, wou’d you after him? _Char_. Nay, force me not; by Heaven, I’ll cry a Rape, Unless you let me go--Not after him! Yes, to the infernal Shades--Unhand me, Sir. _Fop_. How, Madam, have you then design’d my Ruin? _Char_. Oh, trust me, Sir, I am a Maid of Honour. [_Runs in after_ Wild.