_Wood._ It is the spirit of persecution. Dioclesian, and Julian the apostate, were but types of thee. Get thee hence, thou old Geneva testament: thou art a part of the ceremonial law, and hast been abolished these twenty years. _Saint._ All this is nothing, sir. I am privy to your plots: I'll discover them to Mr Limberham, and make the house too hot for you. _Wood._ What, you can talk in the language of the world, I see! _Saint._ I can, I can, sir; and in the language of the flesh and devil too, if you provoke me to despair: You must, and shall be mine, this night. _Wood._ The very ghost of queen Dido in the ballad.[10] _Saint._ Delay no longer, or-- _Wood._ Or! you will not swear, I hope? _Saint._ Uds-niggers but I will; and that so loud, that Mr Limberham shall hear me. _Wood._ Uds-niggers, I confess, is a very dreadful oath. You could lie naturally before, as you are a fanatic; if you can swear such rappers too, there is hope of you; you may be a woman of the world in time. Well, you shall be satisfied, to the utmost farthing, to-night, and in your own chamber. _Saint._ Or, expect to-morrow-- _Wood._ All shall be atoned ere then. Go, provide the bottle of clary, the Westphalia ham, and other fortifications of nature; we shall see what may be done. What! an old woman must not be cast away. [_Chucks her._ _Saint._ Then, verily, I am appeased. _Wood._ Nay, no relapsing into verily; that is in our bargain. Look how she weeps for joy! It is a good old soul, I warrant her. _Saint._ You will not fail? _Wood._ Dost thou think I have no compassion for thy gray hairs? Away, away; our love may be discovered: We must avoid scandal; it is thy own maxim. [_Exit_ SAINTLY. They are all now at ombre; and Brainsick's maid has promised to send her mistress up. _Enter_ PLEASANCE. That fury here again! _Pleas._ [_Aside._] I'll conquer my proud spirit, I am resolved on it, and speak kindly to him.--What, alone, sir! If my company be not troublesome; or a tender young creature, as I am, may safely trust herself with a man of such prowess, in love affairs--It wonnot be. _Wood._ So! there is one broadside already: I must sheer off. [_Aside._ _Pleas._ What, you have been pricking up and down here upon a cold scent[11]; but, at last, you have hit it off, it seems! Now for a fair view at the wife or mistress: up the wind, and away with it: Hey, Jowler!--I think I am bewitched, I cannot hold. _Wood._ Your servant, your servant, madam: I am in a little haste at present. [_Going._ _Pleas._ Pray resolve me first, for which of them you lie in ambush; for, methinks, you have the mien of a spider in her den. Come, I know the web is spread, and whoever comes, Sir Cranion stands ready to dart out, hale her in, and shed his venom.