nd undressing, the smutty Lectures of the Women,
by way of Instruction, and the little Stratagems of the young Wenches
--odds bobs, a Man's cozen'd of half his Night: Come, Gentlemen, one
Bottle, and then--we'll toss the Stocking.

[_Exeunt all but L_. Ful. Bred, _who are talking, and_ Gayman.

L. _Ful_. But dost thou think he'll come?

_Bred_. I do believe so, Madam--

L. _Ful_. Be sure you contrive it so, he may not know whither, or to
whom he comes.

_Bred_. I warrant you, Madam, for our Parts.
[_Exit_ Bredwel, _stealing out_ Gayman.

L. _Ful_. How now, what, departing?

_Gay_. You are going to the Bride-Chamber.

L. _Ful_. No matter, you shall stay--

_Gay_. I hate to have you in a Croud.

L. _Ful_. Can you deny me--will you not give me one lone hour i'th'
Garden?

_Gay_. Where we shall only tantalize each other with dull kissing,
and part with the same Appetite we met--No, Madam; besides, I have
business--

L. _Ful_. Some Assignation--is it so indeed?

_Gay_. Away, you cannot think me such a Traitor; 'tis more important
business--

L. _Ful_. Oh, 'tis too late for business--let to morrow serve.

_Gay_. By no means--the Gentleman is to go out of Town.

L. _Ful_. Rise the earlier then--

_Gay_.--But, Madam, the Gentleman lies dangerously--sick--and should he
die--

L. _Ful_. 'Tis not a dying Uncle, I hope, Sir?

_Gay_. Hum--

L. _Ful_. The Gentleman a dying, and to go out of Town to morrow?

_Gay_. Ay--a--he goes--in a Litter--'tis his Fancy, Madam--Change of Air
may recover him.

L. _Ful_. So may your change of Mistress do me, Sir--farewel.
[_Goes out_.

_Gay_. Stay, _Julia_--Devil, be damn'd--for you shall tempt no more,
I'll love and be undone--but she is gone--
And if I stay, the most that I shall gain
Is but a reconciling Look, or Kiss.
No, my kind Goblin--

_I'll keep my Word with thee, as the least Evil;
A tantalizing Woman's worse than Devil_.

[_Exit_.

ACT III.

SCENE I. _Sir_ Feeble's _House_.

_The Second Song before the Entry_.

A SONG made by Mr. _Cheek_.

_No more, Lucinda, ah! expose no more
To the admiring World those conquering Charms:
In vain all day unhappy Men adore,
What the kind Night gives to my longing Arms.
Their vain Attempts can ne'er successful prove,
Whilst I so well maintain the