SCENE I. Sir Timothy’s House.
Enter Dresswell, Foppington, Laboir, and five or six more disguised with Wizards and dark Lanthorns.
Fop. Not yet! a plague of this damn’d Widow: The Devil ow’d him an unlucky Cast, and has thrown it him to night.
Enter Wild, in Rapture and Joy.
—Hah, dear Tom, art thou come?
Wild. I saw how at her length she lay! I saw her rising Bosom bare!
Fop. A Pox of her rising Bosom! My dear, let’s dress and about our Business.
Wild. Her loose thin Robes, through which appear A Shape design’d for Love and Play!
Dres. Sheart, Sir, is this a time for Rapture? ‘tis almost day.
Wild. Ah, Frank, such a dear Night!