Enter to them Sir Feeble Fainwou’d.
Sir Feeb. What’s here? what’s here? the prating Women still. Ods bobs, what, not in Bed yet? for shame of Love, Leticia.
Let. For shame of Modesty, Sir; you wou’d not have me go to Bed before all this Company.
Sir Feeb. What, the Women! why, they must see you laid, ‘tis the fashion.
Let. What, with a Man? I wou’d not for the World. Oh, Bellmour, where art thou with all thy promised aid? [Aside.
Dia. Nay, Madam, we shou’d see you laid indeed.
Let. First in my Grave, Diana.
Sir Feeb. Ods bobs, here’s a Compact amongst the Women—High Treason against the Bridegroom—therefore, Ladies, withdraw, or, adod, I’ll lock you all in. [Throws open his Gown, they run all away, he locks the Door.
So, so, now we’re alone, Leticia—off with this foolish Modesty, and Night Gown, and slide into my Arms. [She runs from him. H’e’, my little Puskin—what, fly me, my coy Daphne, [He pursues her. Knocking. Hah—who’s that knocks—who’s there?—
Bel. [Within.] ‘Tis I, Sir, ‘tis I, open the door presently.