SCENE IV.

_Enter the cashiered_ CONFIDANTS, _in a discontented posture_.

FLO. Summoned to appear! for what? What have we done?

CAR. Incensed those humorous scornful ladies. Thence rose the ground, I durst wager my beaver on't; They ought us a spite, and their information has done't.

PAL. This falls pat on their resolves: for those disdainful wenches, in the heat of their passion, vowed jointly that revenge should kick up our heels.

SAL. Our heels are not so short, though theirs be. Should they pursue this information, it would dart highly on their dishonour.

MOR. Honour! what may that be in this age, but an airy title? These _bona-robas_ have not lost the art of ingratiating, nor deluding their servants. There be chimneys enough at court to convey their smoke. Beauty and confidence keep strong sentinels in love's army. They cannot want solicitors in a place of liberty.

TIL. Let them hold to't! Their complaints are but squibs in the air. Such whifflers are below my scorn, and beneath my spite. Let's bravely on: I should account his fate The worst of ills, that's foil'd by woman's hate.

FLO. Yet 'twas Alcides' heavy fate, and he Was stronger far than twenty such as we.

[_Exeunt._