ou beg his Pardon! Oh, was ever heard such Impudence!

L. _Fan._ Indeed, my Love, he is to blame; but we that are judicious
should bear with the Frailities of Youth.

Sir _Pat._ Oh insupportable Audacity!--what canst thou say, false Woman?

L. _Fan._ Truly not much in his Defence, my Dear.

_Isab._ Oh cunning Devil!--

L. _Fan._ But, Sir, to hide the weakness of your Daughter, I have a
little strain'd my Modesty.--

_Isab._ Heavens! what says she?--

L. _Fan._ 'Tis _Isabella's_ Lover, Sir, whom I've conceal'd.

_Lod._ A good hint to save both our Credits.

Sir _Pat._ How, Mr. _Fainlove_ mean you?

[_Lodwick_ rises and comes a little more forward, _Isabella_ does
the like, till both meet at the feet of the Bed, and start,
_Lodwick_ looking simply.

L. _Fan._ Ay, my dear, Mr. _Fainlove_.

_Lod._ _Isabella_ here! must she know too what a fine inconstant Dog I
am?--

_Isab._ _Lodwick!_ and in my Mother's Chamber! may I believe my Eyes!

Sir _Pat._ But how got he hither?--tell me that: oh Youth, Youth, to
what degree of Wickedness art thou arriv'd?

L. _Fan._ She appointed him to come this Night, Sir, and he going to her
Chamber, by mistake came into mine, it being the next to her's.

_Maun._ But, Lord, Sir, had you heard how my Lady school'd him, whilst I
ran down to fetch a Light!

_Lod._ Now does my Conscience tell me, I am a damn'd Villain.--
[Aside, looking pitifully on _Isabella_.

L. _Fan._ But the poor Man presently perceiv'd his mistake, and beg'd my
pardon in such feeling Terms--that I vow I had not the heart to deny it
him.

_Isab._ Oh Traytor! wou'd thou hadst been that Ravisher I took thee for,
rather than such a Villain--false! and with my Mother too!

L. _Fan._ And just then, Sir, you came to the Door, and lest you shou'd
see him, intreated me to hide him from your Anger,--the Offence is not
so heinous, Sir, considering he is so soon to marry her.

Sir _Pat._ Well, Sir, and what have you to say in your Defence?--hah,
how, Mr. _Knowell_,--worse and worse,--why, how came you hither, Sir?
hah.--

L. _Fan._ Not _Wittmore_! oh, I am ruin'd and betray'd.
[Falls almost in a swoon.

Sir _Pat._ Hah, _Isabella_ here too!

_Isab._ Yes, Sir, to justify her Innocence.

Sir _Pat._ Hah! Innocence! and justify! take her away; go out of my
sight, thou Limb of Satan,--take her away, I say, I'll talk with you to
morrow, Lady Finetricks--I will.--

_Isab._ --And I'll know befo