the
evening expect me. One kiss more to confirm me mad; so.

SILV. Ha, ha, ha, an old fox trapped--

SCENE XI.

[_To her_] LUCY.

Bless me! you frighted me; I thought he had been come again, and had
heard me.

LUCY. Lord, madam, I met your lover in as much haste as if he had been
going for a midwife.

SILV. He's going for a parson, girl, the forerunner of a midwife, some
nine months hence. Well, I find dissembling to our sex is as natural as
swimming to a negro; we may depend upon our skill to save us at a plunge,
though till then, we never make the experiment. But how hast thou
succeeded?

LUCY. As you would wish--since there is no reclaiming Vainlove. I have
found out a pique she has taken at him, and have framed a letter that
makes her sue for reconciliation first. I know that will do--walk in and
I'll show it you. Come, madam, you're like to have a happy time on't;
both your love and anger satisfied! All that can charm our sex conspire
to please you.

That woman sure enjoys a blessed night,
Whom love and vengeance both at once delight.

ACT IV.

SCENE I.

SCENE: _The Street_.

BELLMOUR, _in fanatic habit_, SETTER.

BELL. 'Tis pretty near the hour. [_Looking on his watch_.] Well, and
how, Setter, hae, does my hypocrisy fit me, hae? Does it sit easy on me?

SET. Oh, most religiously well, sir.

BELL. I wonder why all our young fellows should glory in an opinion of
atheism, when they may be so much more conveniently lewd under the
coverlet of religion.

SET. S'bud, sir, away quickly: there's Fondlewife just turned the
corner, and 's coming this way.

BELL. Gad's so, there he is: he must not see me.

SCENE II.

FONDLEWIFE, BARNABY.

FOND. I say I will tarry at home.

BAR. But, sir.

FOND. Good lack! I profess the spirit of contradiction hath possessed
the lad--I say I will tarry at home, varlet.

BAR. I have done, sir; then farewell five hundred pound.

FOND. Ha, how's that? Stay, stay, did you leave word, say you, with his
wife? With Comfort herself?

BAR. I did; and Comfort will send Tribulation hither as soon as ever he
comes home. I could have brought young Mr. Prig to have kept my mistress
company in the meantime. But you say--

FOND. How, how, say, varlet! I say let him not come near my doors. I
say, he is a wanton young Levite, and pampereth himself up with dainties,
that he may look lovely in the eyes of women. Sincere