Foot. I know not, Sir, he ’rose before day—What Letter’s this, Sir? It lay upon your Toylet. Gives Welborn a Letter.
Wel. To the dear Man whose Name I would be glad to know— Reads.
Hum—a Woman’s Hand— Opens it.
The Lady you saw last Thursday in the Mall, you had in Bed with you last Night. Adieu.
Oh! dull Divinity of Love! that by no Instinct, no sympathizing Pains or Pleasure, could instruct my Sense, how near I was to Happiness!
Enter George, fine.
—Lejere, behold me here the most unlucky Fellow breathing. Thou know’st I told thee how I was in love with a young Woman in the Mall: And this very Night I had this very Woman in my Arms.
Geo. Is this your ill Luck, Sir?
Wel. ’Sdeath, all the while I took her for a Man: But finding me asleep, she softly rose; and, by a Light yet burning in my Chamber, she writ this Billet, and left it on my Table. Gives it George, he reads it.
Geo. By all that’s good, Olivia!—And were you very honest, Sir?