L. _Ful_. Idle Fancies, what makes you from your Bed? and you, Sir, from your Bride? _Enter_ Dick _with Sack_. Sir _Feeb_. Oh! that’s the business of another day, a mistake only, Madam. L. _Ful_. Away, I’m asham’d to see wise Men so weak; the Fantoms of the Night, or your own Shadows, the Whimseys of the Brain for want of Rest, or perhaps _Bredwel_, your Man--who being wiser than his Master, play’d you this Trick to fright you both to Bed. Sir _Feeb_. Hum--adod, and that may be, for the young Knave when he let me in to Night, was drest up for some Waggery-- Sir _Cau_. Ha, ha, ha, ‘twas even so, sure enough, Brother-- Sir _Feeb_. Ads bobs, but they frighted me at first basely--but I’ll home to Pupsey, there may be Roguery, as well as here--Madam, I ask your Pardon, I see we’re all mistaken. L. _Ful_. Ay, Sir _Feeble_, go home to your Wife. [_Ex. severally_. SCENE VI. _The Street_. _Enter_ Bellmour _at the door, knocks, and enter to him from the House_, Phillis. _Phil_. Oh, are you come, Sir? I’ll call my Lady down. _Bel_. Oh, haste, the Minutes fly--leave all behind. And bring _Leticia_ only to my Arms. [_A noise of People_. --Hah, what noise is that? ‘Tis coming this way, I tremble with my fears--hah, Death and the Devil, ’.is he-- _Enter Sir_ Feeble _and his Men arm’d, goes to the door, knocks_. Ay, ‘tis he, and I’m undone--what shall I do to kill him now? besides, the Sin wou’d put me past all Hopes of pardoning. Sir _Feeb_. A damn’d Rogue to deceive me thus.-- _Bel_. Hah--see, by Heaven _Leticia_, Oh, we are ruin’d! Sir _Feeb_. Hum--what’s here, two Women?-- [_Stands a little off_. _Enter_ Leticia _and_ Phillis _softly, undrest, with a Box_. _Let_. Where are you, my best Wishes? Lord of my Vows--and Charmer of my Soul? Where are you? _Bel_. Oh, Heavens!-- [_Draws his Sword half-way_. Sir _Feeb_. Hum, who’s here? My Gentlewoman--she’s monstrous kind of the sudden. But whom is’t meant to? [_Aside_. _Let_. Give me your hand, my Love, my Life, my All--Alas! where are you? Sir _Feeb_. Hum--no, no, this is not to me--I am jilted, cozen’d, cuckolded, and so forth.-- [_Groping, she takes hold of Sir_ Feeb. _Let_. Oh, are you here? indeed you frighted me with your Silence--here, take these Jewels, and let us haste away. Sir _Feeb_. Hum--are you thereabouts, Mistress? was I sent away with a Sham-Plot for this!--She cannot mean it to me. [_Aside_. _Let_. Will you not speak?--will you not answer me?--do you repent already?--before Enjoyment are you cold and false? Sir _Feeb_. Hum, before Enjoyment--that must be me. Before Injoyment-- Ay, ay, ‘tis I--I see a little Prolonging a Woman’s Joy, sets an Edge upon her Appetite. [_Merrily_. _Let_. What means my Dear? shall we not haste away?