[As she is at the Toilet, he looks over her shoulder, and sees her Face in the Glass.
Let. Go you first, Sir, I will but stay to say my Prayers, which are that Heaven wou’d deliver me. [Aside.
Sir Feeb. Say thy Prayers!—What, art thou mad! Prayers upon thy Wedding-night! a short Thanksgiving or so—but Prayers quoth a—’Sbobs, you’ll have time enough for that, I doubt—
Le. I am asham’d to undress before you, Sir; go to Bed—
Sir Feeb. What, was it asham’d to shew its little white Foots, and its little round Bubbies—well, I’ll go, I’ll go—I cannot think on’t, no I cannot—
[Going towards the Bed, Bellmour comes forth from between the Curtains, his Coat off, his Shirt bloody, a Dagger in his hand, and his Disguise off.
Bel. Stand—
Sir Feeb. Ah—
Let. and Phil. [squeak]—Oh, Heavens! —why, is it Bellmour? [Aside to Phil.
Bel. Go not to Bed, I guard this sacred Place, And the Adulterer dies that enters here.