Sir _Cau_. A most judicious Lady; would my _Julia_ had a little of her Modesty; but my Lady’s a Wit. _Enter_ Susan _with a Box_. Sir _Feeb_. Look here, my little Puskin, here’s fine Playthings for its nown little Coxcomb--go--get you gone--get you gone, and off with this St. _Martin’s_ Trumpery, these Play-house Glass Baubles, this Necklace, and these Pendants, and all this false Ware; ods bobs, I’ll have no Counterfeit Geer about thee, not I. See--these are right as the Blushes on thy Cheeks, and these as true as my Heart, my Girl. Go, put’em on, and be fine. [_Gives ‘em her_. _Let_. Believe me, Sir, I shall not merit this kindness. Sir _Feeb_. Go to--More of your Love, and less of your Ceremony--give the old Fool a hearty buss, and pay him that way--he, ye little wanton Tit, I’ll steal up--and catch ye and love ye--adod, I will--get ye gone--get ye gone. _Let_. Heavens, what a nauseous thing is an old Man turn’d Lover! [_Ex_. Leticia _and_ Diana. Sir _Cau_. How, steal up, Sir _Feeble_--I hope not so; I hold it most indecent before the lawful hour. Sir _Feeb_. Lawful hour! Why, I hope all hours are lawful with a Man’s own Wife. Sir _Cau_. But wise Men have respect to Times and Seasons. Sir _Feeb_. Wise young Men, Sir _Cautious_; but wise old Men must nick their Inclinations; for it is not as ‘twas wont to be, for it is not as ’.was wont to be-- [_Singing and Dancing_. _Enter_ Ralph. _Ral_. Sir, here’s a young Gentleman without wou’d speak with you. Sir _Feeb_. Hum--I hope it is not that same Bellmour come to forbid the Banes--if it be, he comes too late--therefore bring me first my long Sword, and then the Gentleman. [_Exit_ Ralph. _Bear_. Pray, Sir, use mine, it is a travell’d Blade I can assure you, Sir. Sir _Feeb_. I thank you, Sir. _Enter_ Ralph _and_ Bellmour _disguised, gives him a Letter, he reads_. How--my Nephew! _Francis Fainwou’d_! [_Embraces him_. _Bel_. I am glad he has told me my Christian name. Sir _Feeb_. Sir _Cautious_, know my Nephew--’tis a young _St. Omers_ Scholar--but none of the Witnesses. Sir _Cau_. Marry, Sir, and the wiser he; for they got nothing by’t. _Bea_. Sir, I love and honour you, because you are a Traveller. Sir _Feeb_. A very proper young Fellow, and as like old _Frank Fainwou’d_ as the Devil to the Collier; but, _Francis_, you are come into a very leud Town, _Francis_, for Whoring, and Plotting, and Roaring, and Drinking; but you must go to Church, _Francis_, and avoid ill Company, or you may make damnable Havock in my Cash, _Francis_, --what, you can keep Merchants Books? _Bel_. That’s been my study, Sir. Sir _Feeb_. And you will not be proud, but will be commanded by me, _Francis_? _Bel_. I desire not to be favour’d as a Kinsman, Sir, but as your humblest Servant.