The sad effects of Perjury, and forc'd Marriage.
--Surely the Pow'rs above envy'd my Bliss;
Marrying _Celinda_, I had been an Angel,
So truly blest, and good. [_Weeps_.

Sir _Tim_. Why, how now, _Frank_--by Fortune, the Rogue is Maudlin--So,
ho, ho, so ho.

_Bel_. The matter?

Sir _Tim_. Oh, art awake--What a Devil ail'st thou, _Frank_?

_Bel_. A Wench, or any thing--come, let's drink a round.

_Sham_. They're come as wisht for.

_Enter_ Flauntit, Driver, Doll _and_ Jenny _mask'd_.

_Bel_. Oh, damn 'em! What shall I do?
Yet it would look like Virtue to avoid 'em.
No, I must venture on--Ladies, y'are welcome.

Sir _Tim_. How, the Women?--Hold, hold, _Bellmour_, let me choose too--
Come, come, unmask, and shew your pretty Faces.

_Flaunt_. How, Sir _Timothy_! What Devil ow'd me a spite. [_Aside_.

Sir _Tim_. Come, unmask, I say: a willing Wench would have shew'd all
in half this time.