Sharper, Bellmour, Setter.

SET.  Talk of the devil: see where he comes.

SHARP.  Hugging himself in his prosperous mischief—no real fanatic can look better pleased after a successful sermon of sedition.

BELL.  Sharper!  Fortify thy spleen: such a jest!  Speak when thou art ready.

SHARP.  Now, were I ill-natured would I utterly disappoint thy mirth: hear thee tell thy mighty jest with as much gravity as a bishop hears venereal causes in the spiritual court.  Not so much as wrinkle my face with one smile; but let thee look simply, and laugh by thyself.

BELL.  Pshaw, no; I have a better opinion of thy wit.  Gad, I defy thee.

SHARP.  Were it not loss of time you should make the experiment.  But honest Setter, here, overheard you with Lucy, and has told me all.

BELL.  Nay, then, I thank thee for not putting me out of countenance.  But, to tell you something you don’t know.  I got an opportunity after I had married ’em, of discovering the cheat to Sylvia.  She took it at first, as another woman would the like disappointment; but my promise to make her amends quickly with another husband somewhat pacified her.

SHARP.  But how the devil do you think to acquit yourself of your promise?  Will you marry her yourself?

BELL.  I have no such intentions at present.  Prithee, wilt thou think a little for me?  I am sure the ingenious Mr. Setter will assist.

SET.  O Lord, sir!

BELL.  I’ll leave him with you, and go shift my habit.