_Jul_. The Rogues are fled, but how secure I know not;-- And I’ll pursue my first design of Love, And if this _Silvianetta_ will be kind-- _Enter_ Laura _from the House in a Night-gown_. _Lau_. Whist--who is’t names _Silvianetta_? _Jul_. A Lover, and her Slave-- [_She takes him by the hand_. _Lau_. Oh, is it you,--are you escap’d unhurt? Come to my Bosom--and be safe for ever-- _Jul_. ‘Tis Love that calls, and now Revenge must stay, --This hour is thine, fond Boy; the next that is my own I’ll give to Anger.-- _Oct_. Oh, ye pernicious Pair,--I’ll quickly change the Scene of Love into a rougher and more unexpected Entertainment. [_She leads_ Julio _in_.--Oct. _follows close, they shut the door upon ‘em. Sir_ Sig. _thrusts out his head to hearken, hears no body, and advances. Sir _Sig_. Sure the Devil reigns to night; wou’d I were shelter’d, and let him rain Fire and Brimstone: for pass the streets I dare not--this shou’d be the House--or hereabouts I’m sure ‘tis.--Hah--what’s this--a String--of a Bell I hope--I’ll try to enter; and if I am mistaken, ‘tis but crying Con licentia. [_Rings, enter_ Philippa. _Phil_. Who’s there? Sir _Sig_. ‘Tis I, ‘tis I, let me in quickly.-- _Phil_. Who--the _English_ Cavalier? Sir _Sig_. The same--I am right--I see I was expected. _Phil_. I’m glad you’re come--give me your hand.-- Sir _Sig_. I am fortunate at last,--and therefore will say with the famous Poet. _No Happiness like that atchicv’d with Danger, --Which once overcome--I lie at Rack and Manger_. [_Exeunt_. ACT IV. SCENE I. _Enter_ Fillamour _and_ Galliard, _as in_ Silvianetta’s _Apartment_. _Fil_. How splendidly these common Women live! How rich is all we meet with in this Palace; And rather seems the Apartment of some Prince, Than a Receptacle for Lust and Shame. _Gal_. You see, _Harry_, all the keeping Fools are not in our Dominions; but this grave, this wise People, are Mistress-ridden too. _Fil_. I fear we have mistook the House, and the Youth that brought us in may have deceived us, on some other design; however whilst I’ve this--I cannot fear--[_Draws_. _Gal_. A good caution, and I’ll stand upon my guard with this; but see-- here’s one will put us out of doubt. [_Pulls a Pistol out of his pocket_. _Fil_. Hah! the fair Inchantress. [_Enter_ Mar. _richly and loosely drest_. _Mar_. What, on your guard, my lovely Cavalier? Lies there a danger In this Face and Eyes, that needs that rough resistance? --Hide, hide that mark of Anger from my sight, And if thou wou’dst be absolute Conquerer here, Put on soft Looks, with Eyes all languishing, Words tender, gentle Sighs, and kind Desires. _Gal_. Death, with what unconcern he hears all this! Art thou possest?--Pox, why dost not answer her?