Sir _Feeb_. So, put it into my Cabinet,--safe, _Francis_, safe.
_Bel_. Safe, I"ll warrant you, Sir.
Sir _Feeb_. My Gown, quick, quick,--t"other Sleeve, Man--so now my Night-cap; well, I"ll in, throw open my Gown to fright away the Women, and jump into her Arms.
[_Exit Sir_ Feeble.
_Bel_. He"s gone, quickly, oh Love inspire me!
_Enter a Footman_.
_Foot_. Sir, my Master, Sir _Cautious Fulbank_, left his Watch on the little Parlor-Table to night, and bid me call for"t.
_Bel_. Hah--the Bridegroom has it, Sir, who is just gone to Bed, it shall be sent him in the Morning.
_Foot_. "Tis very well, Sir--your Servant-- [_Exit_ Footman.
_Bel_. Let me see--here is the Watch, I took it up to keep for him--but his sending has inspir"d me with a sudden Stratagem, that will do better than Force, to secure the poor trembling _Leticia_--who, I am sure, is dying with her Fears.
[_Exit_ Bellmour.
SCENE II. _Changes to the Bed-chamber; _Leticia_ in an undressing by the Women at the Table_.
_Enter to them Sir_ Feeble Fainwou"d.
Sir _Feeb_. What"s here? what"s here? the prating Women still. Ods bobs, what, not in Bed yet? for shame of Love, _Leticia_.
_Let_. For shame of Modesty, Sir; you wou"d not have me go to Bed before all this Company.
Sir _Feeb_. What, the Women! why, they must see you laid, "tis the fashion.
_Let_. What, with a Man? I wou"d not for the World.
Oh, _Bellmour_, where art thou with all thy promised aid? [_Aside_.
_Dia_. Nay, Madam, we shou"d see you laid indeed.
_Let_. First in my Grave, _Diana_.
Sir _Feeb_. Ods bobs, here"s a Compact amongst the Women--High Treason against the Bridegroom--therefore, Ladies, withdraw, or, adod, I"ll lock you all in.
[_Throws open his Gown, they run all away, he locks the Door_.
So, so, now we"re alone, _Leticia_--off with this foolish Modesty, and Night Gown, and slide into my Arms.
[_She runs from him_.
H"e", my little Puskin--what, fly me, my coy _Daphne_, [_He pursues her. Knocking_.
Hah--who"s that knocks--who"s there?--
_Bel_. [_Within_.] "Tis I, Sir, "tis I, open the door presently.
Sir _Feeb_. Why, what"s the matter, is the House o-fire?
_Bel_. [_Within_.] Worse, Sir, worse--
[_He opens the door, _Bellmour_ enters with the Watch in his hand_.
_Let_. "Tis _Bellmour"s_ Voice!
_Bel_. Oh, Sir, do you know this Watch?
Sir _Feeb_. This Watch!
_Bel_. Ay, Sir, this Watch?
Sir _Feeb_. This Watch!--why, prithee, why dost tell me of a Watch? "tis Sir _Cautious Fulbank"s_ Watch; what then, what a Pox dost trouble me with Watches? [_Offers to put him out, he returns_.
_Bel_. "Tis indeed his Watch, Sir, and by this Token he has sent for you, to come immediately to his House, Sir.
Sir _Feeb_. What a Devil, art mad, _Francis_? or is his Worship mad, or does he think me mad?--go, prithee tell him I"ll come to him to morrow.
[_Goes to put him out_.
_Bel_. To morrow, Sir! why all our Throats may be cut before to morrow.
Sir _Feeb_. What sayst thou, Throat cut?
_Bel_. Why, the City"s up in Arms, Sir, and all the Aldermen are met at _Guild-Hall_; some d.a.m.nable Plot, Sir.
Sir _Feeb_. Hah--Plot--the Aldermen met at _Guild-Hall!_--hum--why, let "em meet, I"ll not lose this Night to save the Nation.
_Let_. Wou"d you to bed, Sir, when the weighty Affairs of State require your Presence?
Sir _Feeb_.--Hum--met at _Guild-Hall_;--my Clothes, my Gown again, _Francis_, I"ll out--out! what, upon my Wedding-night? No--I"ll in.
[_Putting on his Gown pausing, pulls it off again_.
_Let_. For shame, Sir, shall the Reverend Council of the City debate without you?
Sir _Feeb_. Ay, that"s true, that"s true; come truss again, _Francis_, truss again--yet now I think on"t, _Francis_, prithee run thee to the Hall, and tell "em "tis my Wedding-night, d"ye see, _Francis_; and let some body give my Voice for--
_Bel_. What, Sir?
Sir _Feeb_. Adod, I cannot tell; up in Arms, say you! why, let "em fight Dog, fight Bear; mun, I"ll to Bed--go--
_Let_. And shall his Majesty"s Service and his Safety lie unregarded for a slight Woman, Sir?
Sir _Feeb_. Hum, his Majesty!--come, haste, _Francis_, I"ll away, and call _Ralph_, and the Footmen, and bid "em arm; each Man shoulder his Musket, and advance his Pike--and bring my Artillery Implements quick--and let"s away: Pupsey--b"u"y, Pupsey, I"ll bring it a fine thing yet before Morning, it may be--let"s away: I shall grow fond, and forget the business of the Nation--Come, follow me, _Francis_.--
[_Exit Sir_ Feeble, Bellmour _runs to_ Leticia.
_Bel_. Now, my _Leticia_, if thou e"er didst Love, If ever thou design"st to make me blest--Without delay fly this adulterous Bed.