Lady _Fulbank_, in love with _Gayman_, honest and generous, Mrs. _Barry_. _Leticia_. contracted to _Bellmour, married to Sir _Feeble_, young and virtuous, Mrs. _Cook_. _Diana_, Daughter to Sir _Feeble_, in love with Bredwel; virtuous, Mrs. _Mountford_. _Pert_, Lady _Fulbank’s_ Woman. Gammer _Grime_, Landlady to _Gayman_, a Smith’s Wife in _Alsatia_, Mrs. _Powell_. _Susan_, Servant to Sir _Feeble_. _Phillis, Leticia’s_ Woman. A Parson, Fidlers, Dancers and Singers. _The Scene_, LONDON. ACT I. SCENE I. _The Street, at break of Day_. _Enter_ Bellmour _disguis’d in a travelling Habit_. _Bel_. Sure ‘tis the day that gleams in yonder East, The day that all but Lovers blest by Shade Pay chearful Homage to: Lovers! and those pursu’d like guilty me By rigid Laws, which put no difference ’.wixt fairly killing in my own Defence, And Murders bred by drunken Arguments, Whores, or the mean Revenges of a Coward. --This is _Leticia’s_ Father’s House-- [_Looking about_. And that the dear Balcony That has so oft been conscious of our Loves; From whence she has sent me down a thousand Sighs, A thousand looks of Love, a thousand Vows. O thou dear witness of those charming Hours, How do I bless thee, how am I pleas’d to view thee After a tedious Age of Six Months Banishment. _Enter Mr_. Gingle _and several with Musick_. _Fid_. But hark ye, Mr. _Gingle_, is it proper to play before the Wedding? _Gin_. Ever while you live, for many a time in playing after the first night, the Bride’s sleepy, the Bridegroom tir’d, and both so out of humour, that perhaps they hate any thing that puts ‘em in mind they are married. [_They play and sing_. _Enter_ Phillis _in the Balcony, throws ‘em Money_. _Rise_, Cloris, _charming Maid, arise! And baffle breaking Day, Shew the adoring World thy Eyes Are more surprizing gay; The Gods of Love are smiling round, And lead the Bridegroom on, And_ Hymen _has the Altar crown’d. While all thy sighing Lovers are undone. To see thee pass they throng the Plain; The Groves with Flowers are strown, And every young and envying Swain Wishes the hour his own. Rise then, and let the God of Day, When thou dost to the Lover yield, Behold more Treasure given away Than he in his vast Circle e’er beheld_. _Bel_. Hah, _Phillis, Leticia’s_ Woman! _Ging_. Fie, Mrs. _Phillis_, do you take us for Fiddlers that play for Hire? I came to compliment Mrs. _Leticia_ on her Wedding-Morning because she is my Scholar. _Phil_. She sends it only to drink her Health. _Ging_. Come, Lads, let’s to the Tavern then-- [_Ex. Musick_. _Bel_. Hah! said he _Leticia_? Sure, I shall turn to Marble at this News: I harden, and cold Damps pass through my senseless Pores.--Hah, who’s here?