Trick. Your servant, till we meet again. [Exeunt severally.

SCENE II.—­Mr WOODALL’S Chamber.

  Mrs BRAINSICK alone.

Mrs Brain. My note has taken, as I wished:  he will be here immediately.  If I could but resolve to lose no time, out of modesty; but it is his part to be violent, for both our credits.  Never so little force and ruffling, and a poor weak woman is excused. [Noise.] Hark, I hear him coming.—­Ah me! the steps beat double:  He comes not alone.  If it should be my husband with him! where shall I hide myself?  I see no other place, but under his bed:  I must lie as silently as my fear will suffer me.  Heaven send me safe again to my own chamber! [Creeps under the Bed.

  Enter WOODALL and TRICKSY.

Wood. Well, fortune at the last is favourable, and now you are my prisoner.

Trick. After a quarter of an hour, I suppose, I shall have my liberty upon easy terms.  But pray let us parley a little first.

Wood. Let it be upon the bed then.  Please you to sit?

Trick. No matter where; I am never the nearer to your wicked purpose.  But you men are commonly great comedians in love-matters; therefore you must swear, in the first place—­

Wood. Nay, no conditions:  The fortress is reduced to extremity; and you must yield upon discretion, or I storm.

Trick. Never to love any other woman.

Wood. I kiss the book upon it. [Kisses her.  Mrs BRAIN. pinches him from underneath the Bed.] Oh, are you at your love-tricks already?  If you pinch me thus, I shall bite your lip.

Trick. I did not pinch you:  But you are apt, I see, to take any occasion of gathering up more close to me.—­Next, you shall not so much as look on Mrs Brainsick.

Wood. Have you done? these covenants are so tedious!

Trick. Nay, but swear then.

Wood. I do promise, I do swear, I do any thing. [Mrs BRAIN. runs a pin into him.] Oh, the devil! what do you mean to run pins into me? this is perfect caterwauling.

Trick. You fancy all this; I would not hurt you for the world.  Come, you shall see how well I love you. [Kisses him:  Mrs BRAIN. pricks her.] Oh!  I think you have needles growing in your bed.
          
                                            [Both rise up.

Wood. I will see what is the matter in it.

Saint. [Within.] Mr Woodall, where are you, verily?

Wood. Pox verily her! it is my landlady:  Here, hide yourself behind the curtains, while I run to the door, to stop her entry.

Trick. Necessity has no law; I must be patient.
             [She gets into the Bed, and draws the clothes over her.