Sir Feeb. Oh! that’s the business of another day, a mistake only,
Madam.
L. Ful. Away, I’m asham’d to see wise Men so weak; the Fantoms of the Night, or your own Shadows, the Whimseys of the Brain for want of Rest, or perhaps Bredwel, your Man—who being wiser than his Master, play’d you this Trick to fright you both to Bed.
Sir Feeb. Hum—adod, and that may be, for the young Knave when he let me in to Night, was drest up for some Waggery—
Sir Cau. Ha, ha, ha, ‘twas even so, sure enough, Brother—
Sir Feeb. Ads bobs, but they frighted me at first basely—but I’ll home to Pupsey, there may be Roguery, as well as here—Madam, I ask your Pardon, I see we’re all mistaken.
L. Ful. Ay, Sir Feeble, go home to your Wife.
[Ex. severally.
SCENE VI. The Street.
Enter Bellmour at the door, knocks, and enter to him from the House, Phillis.
Phil. Oh, are you come, Sir? I’ll call my Lady down.