_Bel_. Why, the City’s up in Arms, Sir, and all the Aldermen are met at _Guild-Hall_; some damnable Plot, Sir. Sir _Feeb_. Hah--Plot--the Aldermen met at _Guild-Hall!_--hum--why, let ’.m meet, I’ll not lose this Night to save the Nation. _Let_. Wou’d you to bed, Sir, when the weighty Affairs of State require your Presence? Sir _Feeb_.--Hum--met at _Guild-Hall_;--my Clothes, my Gown again, _Francis_, I’ll out--out! what, upon my Wedding-night? No--I’ll in. [_Putting on his Gown pausing, pulls it off again_. _Let_. For shame, Sir, shall the Reverend Council of the City debate without you? Sir _Feeb_. Ay, that’s true, that’s true; come truss again, _Francis_, truss again--yet now I think on’t, _Francis_, prithee run thee to the Hall, and tell ‘em ‘tis my Wedding-night, d’ye see, _Francis_; and let some body give my Voice for-- _Bel_. What, Sir? Sir _Feeb_. Adod, I cannot tell; up in Arms, say you! why, let ‘em fight Dog, fight Bear; mun, I’ll to Bed--go-- _Let_. And shall his Majesty’s Service and his Safety lie unregarded for a slight Woman, Sir? Sir _Feeb_. Hum, his Majesty!--come, haste, _Francis_, I’ll away, and call _Ralph_, and the Footmen, and bid ‘em arm; each Man shoulder his Musket, and advance his Pike--and bring my Artillery Implements quick--and let’s away: Pupsey--b’u’., Pupsey, I’ll bring it a fine thing yet before Morning, it may be--let’s away: I shall grow fond, and forget the business of the Nation--Come, follow me, _Francis_.-- [_Exit Sir_ Feeble, Bellmour _runs to_ Leticia. _Bel_. Now, my _Leticia_, if thou e’er didst Love, If ever thou design’st to make me blest--Without delay fly this adulterous Bed. Sir _Feeb_. Why, _Francis_, where are you, Knave? [_Sir _Feeb_. within_. _Bel_. I must be gone, lest he suspect us--I’ll lose him, and return to thee immediately--get thy self ready.-- _Let_. I will not fail, my Love. [_Exit_ Bellmour. _Old Man forgive me--thou the Aggressor art, Who rudely forc’d the Hand without the Heart. She cannot from the Paths of Honour rove, Whose Guide’s Religion, and whose End is Love_. [_Exit_. SCENE III. _Changes to a Wash-house, or Out-House_. _Enter with a Dark-lanthorn_ Bredwel _disguis’d like a Devil, leading_ Gayman. _Bred_. Stay here till I give notice of your coming. [_Exit_ Bredwel, _leaves his Dark-Lanthorn_. _Gay_. Kind Light, a little of your aid--now must I be peeping, though my Curiosity should lose me all--hah--Zouns, what here--a Hovel or a Hog-sty? hum, see the Wickedness of Man, that I should find no time to swear in, but just when I’m in the Devil’s Clutches. _Enter_ Pert, _as an old Woman, with a Staff_. _Old W_. Good Even to you, fair Sir. _Gay_. Ha--defend me; if this be she, I must rival the Devil, that’s certain.