[_He goes back trembling_, Bellmour _follows in with his Dagger up; both go out_. _Let_. Blest be this kind Release, and yet methinks it grieves me to consider how the poor old Man is frighted. [Bellmour _re-enters, puts on his Coat_. _Bel_.--He’s gone, and lock’d himself into his Chamber-- And now, my dear _Leticia_, let us fly-- _Despair till now did my wild Heart invade, But pitying Love has the rough Storm allay’d_. [_Exeunt_. SCENE III. _Sir_ Cautious _his Garden_. _Enter two Porters and_ Rag, _bearing_ Gayman _in a Chest; set it down, he comes forth with a Dark-lanthorn_. _Gay_. Set down the Chest behind yon hedge of Roses--and then put on those Shapes I have appointed you--and be sure you well-favour’dly bang both _Bearjest_ and _Noisey_, since they have a mind to see the Devil. _Rag_. Oh, Sir, leave ‘em to us for that; and if we do not play the Devil with ‘em, we deserve they shou’d beat us. But, Sir, we are in Sir _Cautious_ his Garden, will he not sue us for a Trespass? _Gay_. I’ll bear you out; be ready at my Call. [_Exeunt_. --Let me see--I have got no ready stuff to banter with--but no matter, any Gibberish will serve the Fools--’tis now about the hour of Ten--but Twelve is my appointed lucky Minute, when all the Blessings that my Soul could wish, shall be resign’d to me. _Enter_ Bredwel. --Hah! who’s there? _Bredwel_? _Bred_. Oh, are you come, Sir--and can you be so kind to a poor Youth, to favour his Designs, and bless his Days? _Gay_. Yes, I am ready here with all my Devils, both to secure you your Mistress, and to cudgel your Captain and Squire, for abusing me behind my Back so basely. _Bred_. ‘Twas most unmanly, Sir, and they deserve it--I wonder that they come not. _Gay_. How durst you trust her with him? _Bred_. Because ‘tis dangerous to steal a City-Heiress, and let the Theft be his--so the dear Maid be mine--Hark--sure they come-- _Enter_ Bearjest, _runs against_ Bredwel. --Who’s there? Mr. _Bearjest_? _Bea_. Who’s that? _Ned_? Well, I have brought my Mistress, hast thou got a Parson ready, and a License? _Bred_. Ay, ay, but where’s the Lady? _Bea_. In the Coach, with the Captain at the Gate. I came before, to see if the Coast be clear. _Bred_. Ay, Sir; but what shall we do? here’s Mr. _Gayman_ come on purpose to shew you the Devil, as you desir’d. _Bea_. Sho! a Pox of the Devil, Man--I can’t attend to speak with him now. _Gay_. How, Sir! D’ye think my Devil of so little Quality, to suffer an Affront unrevenged? _Bea_. Sir, I cry his Devilship’s Pardon: I did not know his Quality. I protest, Sir, I love and honour him, but I am now just going to be married, Sir; and when that Ceremony’s past, I’m ready to go to the Devil as soon as you please. _Gay_. I have told him your Desire of seeing him, and shou’d you baffle him?