(Marcilia bustling among 'em, loses her Head-Cloathes.
Patty, Patty, my Head, my Head, the Brutes will trample it to Pieces. Now, Mr. Powel, enter like a Lyon.
Enter Fastin, Followers, Lady Loveall, Betty, &c.
Fast. By Heav'n, I'll tear her from her Lover's Arms, my Father only Spare.
La. Lov. Spare him not: hear my Charge. Aim every arrow, at his Destin'd Head, There is no Peace, 'till that Curst Villain's Dead.
Mar. Look, look my Lord, where Mr. Powell 's got.
La. Lov. Oh, the rash young Man; save him, Gods!
Mr. Prais. How heartily Betty prays, and to her own Deity, I dare swear.
Fast. They fly! they fly! sound Trumpets, Sound! let Clemene's Musick joyn confine my Father to yon distant Tower: I'll not see him 'till I have punish'd the Adultress: Set wide the Gates, and let Clemenes know she's Mistress here.