en, what to do?

SIR PAUL. I suppose they have been laying their heads together.

LORD FROTH. How?

SIR PAUL. Nay, only about poetry, I suppose, my lord; making couplets.

LORD FROTH. Couplets.

SIR PAUL. Oh, here they come.

SCENE XXI.

[_To them_] LADY FROTH, BRISK.

BRISK. My lord, your humble servant; Sir Paul, yours,--the finest night!

LADY FROTH. My dear, Mr. Brisk and I have been star-gazing, I don't know
how long.

SIR PAUL. Does it not tire your ladyship? Are not you weary with
looking up?

LADY FROTH. Oh, no, I love it violently. My dear, you're melancholy.

LORD FROTH. No, my dear; I'm but just awake.

LADY FROTH. Snuff some of my spirit of hartshorn.

LORD FROTH. I've some of my own, thank you, dear.

LADY FROTH. Well, I swear, Mr. Brisk, you understood astronomy like an
old Egyptian.

BRISK. Not comparably to your ladyship; you are the very Cynthia of the
skies, and queen of stars.

LADY FROTH. That's because I have no light but what's by reflection from
you, who are the sun.

BRISK. Madam, you have eclipsed me quite, let me perish. I can't answer
that.

LADY FROTH. No matter. Hark 'ee, shall you and I make an almanac
together?

BRISK. With all my soul. Your ladyship has made me the man in't
already, I'm so full of the wounds which you have given.

LADY FROTH. O finely taken! I swear now you are even with me. O
Parnassus, you have an infinite deal of wit.

SIR PAUL. So he has, gads-bud, and so has your ladyship.

SCENE XXII.

[_To them_] LADY PLYANT, CARELESS, CYNTHIA.

LADY PLYANT. You tell me most surprising things; bless me, who would
ever trust a man? Oh my heart aches for fear they should be all
deceitful alike.

CARE. You need not fear, madam, you have charms to fix inconstancy
itself.

LADY PLYANT. O dear, you make me blush.

LORD FROTH. Come, my dear, shall we take leave of my lord and lady?

CYNT. They'll wait upon your lordship presently.

LADY FROTH. Mr. Brisk, my coach shall set you down.

ALL. What's the matter? [_A great shriek from the corner of the
stage_.]

SCENE XXIII.

[_To them_] LADY TOUCHWOOD _runs out affrighted_, _my lord after her_,
_like a parson_.

LADY TOUCH. Oh, I'm betrayed. Save me, help me!

LORD TOUCH. Now what evasion, strumpet?

LADY TOUCH. Stand off, let me go.

LORD TOUCH. Go, and thy own infamy pursue thee. You stare as you were
all amazed,--I don't wonder at