L. _Fan._ Oh, stay, I wou’d not for the world he should see what a Monster he is,--and is like to be before to morrow. [Aside. _Rog._ I’ll fit him with a Glass,--I’ll warrant ye, it shall advance our Design. [Exit _Roger_. Enter _Maundy_ with the Clothes, she starts. _Maun._ Good Heaven, what ails you, Sir? Sir _Pat._ Oh--oh--’tis so. _Maun._ Lord, how he’s swoln! see how his Stomach struts. Sir _Pat._ Ah, ‘tis true, though I perceive it not. _Maun._ Not perceive it, Sir! put on your Clothes and be convinc’d,--try ’.m, Sir. [She pulls off his Gown, and puts on his Doublet and Coat, which come not near by a handful or more. Sir _Pat._ Ah, it needs not,--mercy upon me!-- [Falls back. I’m lost, I’m gone! Oh Man, what art thou but a Flower? I am poison’d, this talking Lady’s Breath’s infectious; methought I felt the Contagion steal into my Heart; send for my Physicians, and if I die I’ll swear she’s my Murderer: oh, see, see, how my trembling increases, oh, hold my Limbs, I die.-- Enter _Roger_ with a magnifying Glass, shews him the Glass; he looks in it. _Rog._ I’ll warrant I’ll shew his Face as big as a Bushel. [Aside. Sir _Pat._ Oh, oh,--I’m a dead Man, have me to Bed, I die away, undress me instantly, send for my Physicians, I’m poison’d, my Bowels burn, I have within an _Ætna_, my Brains run round, Nature within me reels. [They carry him out in a Chair. _Wit._ And all the drunken Universe does run on Wheels, ha, ha, ha. Ah, my dear Creature, how finely thou hast brought him to his Journy’s end! L. _Fan._ There was no other way but this to have secur’d my Happiness with thee; there needs no more than that you come anon to the Garden Back-gate, where you shall find admittance;--Sir _Patient_ is like to lie alone to night. _Wit._ Till then ‘twill be a thousand Ages. L. _Fan._ At Games of Love Husbands to cheat is fair, ‘Tis the Gallant we play with on the square. [Exeunt severally. ACT III. SCENE I. _Scene draws off to a room in Sir _Patient Fancy’s_ house, and discovers Lady _Knowell_, _Isabella_, _Lucretia_, _Lodwick_, _Leander_, _Wittmore_, Sir _Credulous_, other Men and Women, as going to dance._ L. _Kno._ Come, one Dance more, and then I think we shall have sufficiently teaz’d the Alderman, and ‘twill be time to part.--Sir _Credulous_, where’s your Mistress? Sir _Cred._ Within a Mile of an Oak, dear Madam, I’ll warrant you.--Well, I protest and vow, sweet Lady, you dance most nobly,--Why, you dance--like--like a--like a hasty Pudding, before _Jove_. [They dance some Antick, or Rustick Antick. _Lodwick_ speaking to _Isabella_. SONG made by a Gentleman. _Sitting by yonder River side, _Parthenia_ thus to _Cloe_ cry’d, Whilst from the fair Nymph’s Eyes apace Another Stream o’er-flow’d her beauteous Face; Ah happy Nymph, said she, that can So little value that false Creature, Man._