Bel. Safe, I’ll warrant you, Sir.
Sir Feeb. My Gown, quick, quick,—t’other Sleeve, Man—so now my
Night-cap; well, I’ll in, throw open my Gown to fright away the Women,
and jump into her Arms.
[Exit Sir Feeble.
Bel. He’s gone, quickly, oh Love inspire me!
Enter a Footman.
Foot. Sir, my Master, Sir Cautious Fulbank, left his Watch on the little Parlor-Table to night, and bid me call for’t.
Bel. Hah—the Bridegroom has it, Sir, who is just gone to Bed, it shall be sent him in the Morning.
Foot. ‘Tis very well, Sir—your Servant— [Exit Footman.
Bel. Let me see—here is the Watch, I took it up to keep for him—but his sending has inspir’d me with a sudden Stratagem, that will do better than Force, to secure the poor trembling Leticia—who, I am sure, is dying with her Fears.
[Exit Bellmour.