Sir.

Sir _Feeb_. Ads bobs, and so they would--but there was no Arms, nor
Mutiny--where's _Francis_?

_Bel_. Here, Sir.

Sir _Feeb_. Here, Sir--why, what a story you made of a Meeting in the
Hall, and--Arms, and--a--the Devil of any thing was stirring, but a
couple of old Fools, that sat gaping and waiting for one another's
business--

_Bel_. Such a Message was brought me, Sir.

Sir _Feeb_. Brought! thou'rt an Ass, _Francis_--but no more--come, come,
let's to bed--

_Let_. To Bed, Sir! what, by Day-light?--for that's hasting on--I wou'd
not for the World--the Night wou'd hide my Blushes--but the Day--wou'd
let me see my self in your Embraces.

Sir _Feeb_. Embraces, in a Fiddlestick; why, are we not married?

_Let_. 'Tis true, Sir, and Time will make me more familiar with you, but
yet my Virgin Modesty forbids it. I'll to _Diana's_ Chamber, the Night
will come again.

Sir _Feeb_. For once you shall prevail; and this damn'd Jant has pretty
well mortified me:--a Pox of your Mutiny, _Francis_.--Come, I'll conduct
thee to _Diana_, and lock thee in, that I may have thee safe, Rogue.--

_We'll give young Wenches leave to whine and blush,
And fly those Blessings which--ads bobs, they wish_.

[_Exeunt_.

ACT IV.

SCENE I. _Sir _Feeble's_ House_.

_Enter Lady_ Fulbank, Gayman _fine, gently pulling her back
by the hand; and_ Ralph _meets 'em_.

L. _Ful_. How now, _Ralph_--Let your Lady know I am come to wait on her.

[_Exit _Ralph.

_Gay_. Oh, why this needless Visit--
Your Husband's safe, at least till Evening safe.
Why will you not go back,
And give me one soft hour, though to torment me?

L. _Ful_. You are at leisure now, I thank you, Sir.
Last Night when I with all Love's Rhetorick pleaded,
And Heaven knows what last Night might have produced,
You were engag'd! False Man, I do believe it,
And I am satisfied you love me not.
[_Walks away in scorn_.

_Gay_. Not love you!
Why do I waste my Youth in vain pursuit,
Neglecting Interest, and despising Power?
Unheeding and despising other Beauties.
Why at your feet are all my Fortunes laid,
And why does all my Fate depend on you?

L. _Ful_. I'll not consider why you play the Fool,
Present me Rings and Bracelets; why pursue me;
Why watch whole Nights before my senseless Door,
And take such Pains to shew your self a Coxcomb