s it not that Heartwell at Sylvia's door? Be gone quickly,
I'll follow you--I would not be known. Pox take 'em, they stand just in
my way.

SCENE II.

BELLMOUR, HEARTWELL, LUCY.

HEART. I'm impatient till it be done.

LUCY. That may be, without troubling yourself to go again for your
brother's chaplain. Don't you see that stalking form of godliness?

HEART. O ay; he's a fanatic.

LUCY. An executioner qualified to do your business. He has been
lawfully ordained.

HEART. I'll pay him well, if you'll break the matter to him.

LUCY. I warrant you.--Do you go and prepare your bride.

SCENE III.

BELLMOUR, LUCY.

BELL. Humph, sits the wind there? What a lucky rogue am I! Oh, what
sport will be here, if I can persuade this wench to secrecy!

LUCY. Sir: reverend sir.

BELL. Madam. [_Discovers himself_.]

LUCY. Now, goodness have mercy upon me! Mr. Bellmour! is it you?

BELL. Even I. What dost think?

LUCY. Think! That I should not believe my eyes, and that you are not
what you seem to be.

BELL. True. But to convince thee who I am, thou knowest my old token.
[_Kisses her_.]

LUCY. Nay, Mr. Bellmour: O Lard! I believe you are a parson in good
earnest, you kiss so devoutly.

BELL. Well, your business with me, Lucy?

LUCY. I had none, but through mistake.

BELL. Which mistake you must go through with, Lucy. Come, I know the
intrigue between Heartwell and your mistress; and you mistook me for
Tribulation Spintext, to marry 'em--Ha? are not matters in this posture?
Confess: come, I'll be faithful; I will, i'faith. What! diffide in me,
Lucy?

LUCY. Alas-a-day! You and Mr. Vainlove, between you, have ruined my
poor mistress: you have made a gap in her reputation; and can you blame
her if she make it up with a husband?

BELL. Well, is it as I say?

LUCY. Well, it is then: but you'll be secret?

BELL. Phuh, secret, ay. And to be out of thy debt, I'll trust thee with
another secret. Your mistress must not marry Heartwell, Lucy.

LUCY. How! O Lord!

BELL. Nay, don't be in passion, Lucy:--I'll provide a fitter husband for
her. Come, here's earnest of my good intentions for thee too; let this
mollify. [_Gives her money_.] Look you, Heartwell is my friend; and
though he be blind, I must not see him fall into the snare, and
unwittingly marry a whore.

LUCY. Whore! I'd have you to know my mistress scorns--

BELL. Nay, nay: look you, Lucy; there a