_Gay_. Ay, the Devil, Sir, if you mean to thrive.
[_Exit_ Rag.
Who can this be--but see he comes to inform me--withdraw.
_Enter_ Bredwel _drest like a Devil_.
_Bred_. I come to bring you this-- [_Gives him a Letter_.
Gayman _reads_.
_Receive what Love and Fortune present you with, be grateful and be silent, or 'twill vanish like a dream, and leave you more wretched that it found You_.
Adieu.
--Hah-- [Gives him a bag of Money.
_Bred_. Nay, view it, Sir, 'tis all substantial Gold.
_Gay_. Now dare not I ask one civil question for fear it vanish all-- [_Aside_.
But I may ask, how 'tis I ought to pay for this great Bounty.
_Bred_. Sir, all the Pay is Secrecy--
_Gay_. And is this all that is required, Sir?
_Bred_. No, you're invited to the Shades below.
_Gay_. Hum, Shades below!--I am not prepared for such a Journey, Sir.
_Bred_. If you have Courage, Youth or Love, you'll follow me: When Night's black Curtain's drawn around the World, And mortal Eyes are safely lockt in sleep, [_In feign'd Heroick Tone_.
And no bold Spy dares view when Gods caress, Then I'll conduct thee to the Banks of Bliss.
--Durst thou not trust me?
_Gay_. Yes, sure, on such substantial security. [_Hugs the Bag_.
_Bred_. Just when the Day is vanish'd into Night, And only twinkling Stars inform the World, Near to the Corner of the silent Wall, In Fields of _Lincoln's-Inn_, thy Spirit shall meet thee.
--Farewell.
[_Goes out_.
_Gay_. Hum--I am awake sure, and this is Gold I grasp.
I could not see this Devil's cloven Foot; Nor am I such a Coxcomb to believe, But he was as substantial as his Gold.
Spirits, Ghosts, Hobgoblins, Furies, Fiends and Devils, I've often heard old Wives fright Fools and Children with, Which, once arriv'd to common Sense, they laugh at.
--No, I am for things possible and Natural: Some Female Devil, old and damn'd to Ugliness, And past all Hopes of Courtship and Address, Full of another Devil called Desire, Has seen this Face--this Shape--this Youth, And thinks it's worth her Hire. It must be so: I must moil on in the damn'd dirty Road, And sure such Pay will make the Journey easy:
_And for the Price of the dull drudging Night, All Day I'll purchase new and fresh Delight_.
[_Exit_.
SCENE II. _Sir_ Feeble's _House_.
_Enter_ Leticia, _pursu'd by_ Phillis.
_Phil_. Why, Madam, do you leave the Garden, For this retreat to Melancholy?
_Let_. Because it suits my Fortune and my Humour; And even thy Presence wou'd afflict me now.
_Phil_. Madam, I was sent after you; my Lady _Fulbank_ has challeng'd Sir _Feeble_ at Bowls, and stakes a Ring of fifty Pound against his new Chariot.
_Let_. Tell him I wish him Luck in every thing, But in his Love to me-- Go tell him I am viewing of the Garden.
[_Ex_. Phillis.
_Enter_ Bellmour _at a distance behind her_.
--Blest be this kind Retreat, this 'lone Occasion, That lends a short Cessation to my Torments, And gives me leave to vent my Sighs and Tears. [_Weeps_.
_Bel_. And doubly blest be all the Powers of Love, That give me this dear Opportunity.
_Let_. Where were you, all ye pitying Gods of Love?
That once seem'd pleas'd at _Bellmour's_ Flame and mine, And smiling join'd our Hearts, our sacred Vows, And spread your Wings, and held your Torches high.
_Bel_. Oh-- [_She starts, and pauses_.
_Let_. Where were you now? When this unequal Marriage Gave me from all my Joys, gave me from _Bellmour_; Your Wings were flag'd, your Torches bent to Earth, And all your little Bonnets veil'd your Eyes; You saw not, or were deaf and pitiless.
_Bel_. Oh my _Leticia_!
_Let_. Hah, 'tis there again; that very voice was _Bellmour's_: Where art thou, Oh thou lovely charming Shade?
For sure thou canst not take a Shape to fright me.
--What art thou?--speak!
[_Not looking behind her yet for fear_.
_Bel_. Thy constant true Adorer, Who all this fatal Day has haunted thee To ease his tortur'd Soul. [_Approaching nearer_.
_Let_. My Heart is well acquainted with that Voice, But Oh, my Eyes dare not encounter thee.
[_Speaking with signs of fear_.
_Bel_. Is it because thou'st broken all thy Vows?
--Take to thee Courage, and behold thy Slaughters.
_Let_. Yes, though the Sight wou'd blast me, I wou'd view it. [_Turns_.
--'Tis he--'tis very _Bellmour!_ or so like-- I cannot doubt but thou deserv'st this Welcome. [_Embraces him_.
_Bel_. Oh my _Leticia_!
_Let_. I'm sure I grasp not Air; thou art no Fantom: Thy Arms return not empty to my Bosom, But meet a solid Treasure.
_Bel_. A Treasure thou so easily threw'st away; A Riddle simple Love ne'er understood.