Enter Leticia, pursu’d by Phillis.
Phil. Why, Madam, do you leave the Garden, For this retreat to Melancholy?
Let. Because it suits my Fortune and my Humour; And even thy Presence wou’d afflict me now.
Phil. Madam, I was sent after you; my Lady Fulbank has challeng’d Sir Feeble at Bowls, and stakes a Ring of fifty Pound against his new Chariot.
Let. Tell him I wish him Luck in every thing, But in his Love to me— Go tell him I am viewing of the Garden.
[Ex. Phillis.
Enter Bellmour at a distance behind her.
—Blest be this kind Retreat, this ‘lone Occasion,
That lends a short Cessation to my Torments,
And gives me leave to vent my Sighs and Tears. [Weeps.
Bel. And doubly blest be all the Powers of Love, That give me this dear Opportunity.
Let. Where were you, all ye pitying Gods of Love?
That once seem’d pleas’d at Bellmour’s Flame and mine,
And smiling join’d our Hearts, our sacred Vows,
And spread your Wings, and held your Torches high.