JOSEPH, BLUFFE, SYLVIA, LUCY, SETTER.

BLUFF. All injuries whatsoever, Mr. Sharper.

SIR JO. Ay, ay, whatsoever, Captain, stick to that; whatsoever.

SHARP. 'Tis done, these gentlemen are witnesses to the general release.

VAIN. Ay, ay, to this instant moment. I have passed an act of oblivion.

BLUFF. 'Tis very generous, sir, since I needs must own--

SIR JO. No, no, Captain, you need not own, heh, heh, heh. 'Tis I must
own--

BLUFF.--That you are over-reached too, ha, ha, ha, only a little art
military used--only undermined, or so, as shall appear by the fair
Araminta, my wife's permission. Oh, the devil, cheated at last! [LUCY
_unmasks_.]

SIR JO. Only a little art-military trick, captain, only countermined, or
so. Mr. Vainlove, I suppose you know whom I have got--now, but all's
forgiven.

VAIN. I know whom you have not got; pray ladies convince him. [ARAM.
_and_ BELIN. _unmask_.]

SIR JO. Ah! oh Lord, my heart aches. Ah! Setter, a rogue of all sides.

SHARP. Sir Joseph, you had better have pre-engaged this gentleman's
pardon: for though Vainlove be so generous to forgive the loss of his
mistress, I know not how Heartwell may take the loss of his wife. [SYLVIA
_unmasks_.]

HEART. My wife! By this light 'tis she, the very cockatrice. O
Sharper! Let me embrace thee. But art thou sure she is really married
to him?

SET. Really and lawfully married, I am witness.

SHARP. Bellmour will unriddle to you. [HEARTWELL _goes to_ BELLMOUR.]

SIR JO. Pray, madam, who are you? For I find you and I are like to be
better acquainted.

SYLV. The worst of me is, that I am your wife--

SHARP. Come, Sir Joseph, your fortune is not so bad as you fear. A fine
lady, and a lady of very good quality.

SIR JO. Thanks to my knighthood, she's a lady--

VAIN. That deserves a fool with a better title. Pray use her as my
relation, or you shall hear on't.

BLUFF. What, are you a woman of quality too, spouse?

SET. And my relation; pray let her be respected accordingly. Well,
honest Lucy, fare thee well. I think, you and I have been play-fellows
off and on, any time this seven years.

LUCY. Hold your prating. I'm thinking what vocation I shall follow
while my spouse is planting laurels in the wars.

BLUFF. No more wars, spouse, no more wars. While I plant laurels for my
head abroad, I may find the branches sprout at home.

HEART. Bellmour, I approve thy mirth, and thank thee.