owe it all--but yonder's that wretch again--pray
let us begone.

_Flor._ Belzebub again,--no, no, we mustn't stir;--what! an angel fly
from a devil? damme, I'll stay and crush him.

_Louisa._ Nay, sir, reflect,--'twere madness to remain.

_Flor._ 'Faith that's true; I believe it's braver to retire,--therefore,
Tarquin, adieu; come, my best angel! I'll fight your battles, and if I
don't sink all your enemies, may I never see Italy again as long as I
live! [_Exeunt._

_Enter WILLOUGHBY._

_Willoughby._ Ha! gone,--I am sorry for it--I would have seen them--lady
Waitfor't has just left me, and treated me like her slave,--insulted and
derided me; but I'll have done with her for ever,--I'll be her dupe no
more;--she is now gone to Neville's lodgings, under pretence of pursuing
Louisa, but, in fact, to see him, and prevent his leaving Bath;--this I
will write to my lord, and then let him follow, and be witness of her
infamy;--thus, I hope, I shall make some reparation for the wrongs I
have committed, and prove at last I have some sense of virtue. [_Exit._

SCENE II.

_NEVILLE'S Lodgings--A Closet in back Scene.--Two
Chairs, and a Table, with Wine on it.--A knocking at the
Door._

_Enter PETER, reading a Card._

_Peter._ _Vapid presents his compliments to his friend Neville; has
thought of nothing but writing the epilogue for his friend's play since
they parted; he has made great progress, and will wait on him to take
his judgment on it in a few minutes._ If the gentleman should come
soon, I fear my master won't be at home to receive him.

[_Knocks.--PETER opens the Door, and lets in VAPID._

_Vapid._ Well, here it is;--where's Neville?

_Peter._ Not within, sir.

_Vapid._ Yes, yes, here it is:--I must see him.

_Peter._ Sir, he's gone out.

_Vapid._ Gone out? impossible!

_Peter._ Impossible! it's very true, sir.

_Vapid._ Gone out! why, I've brought him the epilogue--the new epilogue
to Mr What's-his-name's comedy; the very best thing I ever wrote in my
life; I knew it would delight him.

_Peter._ Sir, he has been gone out above these two hours.

_Vapid._ Then he'll never forgive himself as long as he lives; why, it's
all correct--all chaste! only one half line wanting at the end to make
it complete.

_Peter._ Indeed, sir, it's very unfortunate.

_Vapid._ Unfortunate! I wanted to have heard him read it too; when
a