Sir _Feeb_. Why, _Francis_, where are you, Knave?
[_Sir _Feeb_. within_.
_Bel_. I must be gone, lest he suspect us--I'll lose him, and return to thee immediately--get thy self ready.--
_Let_. I will not fail, my Love.
[_Exit_ Bellmour.
_Old Man forgive me--thou the Aggressor art, Who rudely forc'd the Hand without the Heart.
She cannot from the Paths of Honour rove, Whose Guide's Religion, and whose End is Love_.
[_Exit_.
SCENE III. _Changes to a Wash-house, or Out-House_.
_Enter with a Dark-lanthorn_ Bredwel _disguis'd like a Devil, leading_ Gayman.
_Bred_. Stay here till I give notice of your coming.
[_Exit_ Bredwel, _leaves his Dark-Lanthorn_.
_Gay_. Kind Light, a little of your aid--now must I be peeping, though my Curiosity should lose me all--hah--Zouns, what here--a Hovel or a Hog-sty? hum, see the Wickedness of Man, that I should find no time to swear in, but just when I'm in the Devil's Clutches.
_Enter_ Pert, _as an old Woman, with a Staff_.
_Old W_. Good Even to you, fair Sir.
_Gay_. Ha--defend me; if this be she, I must rival the Devil, that's certain.
_Old W_. Come, young Gentleman, dare not you venture?
_Gay_. He must be as hot as _Vesuvius_ that does--I shall never earn my Morning's Present.
_Old W_. What, do you fear a longing Woman, Sir?
_Gay_. The Devil I do--this is a damn'd Preparation to Love.
_Old W_. Why stand you gazing, Sir? A Woman's Passion is like the Tide, it stays for no man when the hour is come--
_Gay_. I'm sorry I have took it at its Turning; I'm sure mine's ebbing out as fast.
_Old W_. Will you not speak, Sir--will you not on?
_Gay_. I wou'd fain ask--a civil Question or two first.
_Old W_. You know too much Curiosity lost Paradise.
_Gay_. Why, there's it now.
_Old W_. Fortune and Love invite you, if you dare follow me.
_Gay_. This is the first thing in Petticoats that ever dar'd me in vain.
Were I but sure she were but human now--for sundry Considerations she might down--but I will on--
[_She goes, he follows; both go out_.
SCENE IV. _A Chamber in the Apartments of L. _Fulbank.
_Enter_ Old Woman _followed by_ Gayman _in the dark_.
[_Soft Musick plays, she leaves him_.
_Gay_.--Hah, Musick--and Excellent!
SONG.
_Oh! Love, that stronger art than Wine, Pleasing Delusion, Witchery divine, Want to be prized above all Wealth, Disease that has more Joys than Health; Though we blaspheme thee in our Pain, And of thy Tyranny complain, We all are bettered by thy Reign.
What Reason never can bestow, We to this useful Passion owe.
Love wakes the dull from sluggish Ease, And learns a Clown the Art to please: Humbles the Vain, kindles the Cold, Makes Misers free, and Cowards bold.
'Tis he reforms the Sot from Drink, And teaches airy Fops to think.
When full brute Appetite is fed, And choak'd the Glutton lies, and dead; Thou new Spirits dost dispense, And fine'st the gross Delights of Sense.
Virtue's unconquerable Aid, That against Nature can persuade; And makes a roving Mind retire Within the Bounds of just Desire.
Chearer of Age, Youth's kind Unrest, And half the Heaven of the blest_.
_Gay_. Ah, _Julia, Julia!_ if this soft Preparation Were but to bring me to thy dear Embraces; What different Motions wou'd surround my Soul, From what perplex it now.
_Enter Nymphs and Shepherds, and dance_.
[_Then two dance alone. All go out but_ Pert _and a Shepherd_.
--If these be Devils, they are obliging ones: I did not care if I ventur'd on that last Female Fiend.
Man sings.
_Cease your Wonder, cease your Guess, Whence arrives your happiness.
Cease your Wonder, cease your Pain, Human Fancy is in vain_.
Chorus.
_'Tis enough, you once shall find, Fortune may to Worth be kind_; [gives him Gold.
_And Love can leave off being blind_.