; my Lady would
prodigally have took it off all.

Sir _Feeb_. Dear's its nown dear Fubs; buss again, buss again, away,
away--ods bobs, I long for Night--look, look, Sir _Cautious_, what an
Eye's there!

Sir _Cau_. Ay, so there is, Brother, and a modest Eye too.

Sir _Feeb_. Adad, I love her more and more, _Ralph_--call old _Susan_
hither--come, Mr. _Bearjest_, put the Glass about. Ods bobs, when I was
a young Fellow, I wou'd not let the young Wenches look pale and wan--but
would rouse 'em, and touse 'em, and blowze 'em, till I put a colour in
their Cheeks, like an Apple _John_, affacks--Nay, I can make a shift
still, and Pupsey shall not be jealous.

_Enter_ Susan, _Sir_ Feeble _whispers her, she goes out_.

_Let_. Indeed, not I; Sir. I shall be all Obedience.

Sir _Cau_. A most judicious Lady; would my _Julia_ had a little of her
Modesty; but my Lady's a Wit.

_Enter_ Susan _with a Box_.

Sir _Feeb_. Look here, my little Puskin, here's fine Playthings for its
nown little Coxcomb--go--get you gone--get you gone, and off with this
St. _Martin's_ Trumpery, these Play-house Glass Baubles, this Necklace,
and these Pendants, and all this false Ware; ods bobs, I'll have no
Counterfeit Geer about thee, not I. See--these are right as the Blushes
on thy Cheeks, and these as true as my Heart, my Girl. Go, put'em on,
and be fine.
[_Gives 'em her_.

_Let_. Believe me, Sir, I shall not merit this kindness.

Sir _Feeb_. Go to--More of your Love, and less of your Ceremony--give
the old Fool a hearty buss, and pay him that way--he, ye little wanton
Tit, I'll steal up--and catch ye and love ye--adod, I will--get ye
gone--get ye gone.

_Let_. Heavens, what a nauseous thing is an old Man turn'd Lover!
[_Ex_. Leticia _and_ Diana.

Sir _Cau_. How, steal up, Sir _Feeble_--I hope not so; I hold it most
indecent before the lawful hour.

Sir _Feeb_. Lawful hour! Why, I hope all hours are lawful with a Man's
own Wife.

Sir _Cau_. But wise Men have respect to Times and Seasons.

Sir _Feeb_. Wise young Men, Sir _Cautious_; but wise old Men must nick
their Inclinations; for it is not as 'twas wont to be, for it is not as
'twas wont to be--
[_Singing and Dancing_.

_Enter_ Ralph.

_Ral_. Sir, here's a young Gentleman without wou'd speak with you.

Sir _Feeb_. Hum--I hope it is not that same Bellmour come to forbid the
Banes--if it be