Chapter 39

_Enter_ Bellmour _alone, sad_.

_Bel_. The Night is come, oh my _Leticia_! The longing Bridegroom hastens to his Bed; Whilst she with all the languishment of Love, And sad Despair, casts her fair Eyes on me, Which silently implore, I would deliver her. But how! ay, there’s the Question--hah-- [_Pausing_. I’ll get my self hid in her Bed-chamber-- And something I will do--may serve us yet-- If all my Arts should fail--I’ll have recourse [_Draws a dagger_. To this--and bear _Leticia_ off by force. --But see she comes--

_Enter Lady_ Fulbank, _Sir_ Cautious, _Sir_ Feeble, Leticia, Bearjest, Noisey, Gayman. _Exit_ Bellmour.

Sir _Feeb_. Lights there, _Ralph_. And my Lady’s Coach there--

[Bearjest _goes to_ Gayman.

_Bea_. Well, Sir, remember you have promised to grant me my diabolical Request, in shewing me the Devil--

_Gay_. I will not fail you, Sir.

L. _Ful_. Madam, your Servant; I hope you’ll see no more Ghosts, Sir _Feeble_.

Sir _Feeb_. No more of that, I beseech you, Madam: Prithee, Sir _Cautious_, take away your Wife--Madam, your Servant-- [_All go out after the Light_. --Come, _Lette, Lette_; hasten, Rogue, hasten to thy Chamber; away, here be the young Wenches coming-- [_Puts her out, he goes out_.

_Enter_ Diana, _puts on her Hood and Scarf_.

_Dia_. So--they are gone to Bed; and now for _Bredwel_ --the Coach waits, and I’ll take this opportunity.

_Father, farewell--if you dislike my course, Blame the old rigid Customs of your Force_.

[_Goes out_.