Wits led by the nose, or, A poets revenge a tragi-comedy, as it is acted at the Theatre Royal.

SCENE the Temple.

Enter a Priest of Hymen, then Arratus, and then Sir Symon leading Julia drest like Theocrine.

Arra.

This is the day, Son, makes us happy, you in the hopes of such a vertuous Wife, and I to see both Married. And Daugh∣ter (since your duty speaks you so) I hope this joyful day will Crown your Loves, and add Eternal Comforts to your Lives. Lead to the Altar.

As they go up to the Altar the suppos'd Ghost of Van∣lore appears, Julia and the Priest shriek and run off severally, Arratus falls down, Sir Symon offers to run out, but is stop'd at ev'ry entrance by a Spirit.

SONG. By the Spirits.

1 Spi. MAke hast, make hast, The time doth wast And flyes too fast. Cho. Therefore Remove These sinners from their bliss Above, For they must share With us in Everlasting Care.

2.

2 Spi. Remember old man, and ye sprightly young Blade, The Lover, the Lover, to death was betray'd; At Ardenna by you he was strangely remov'd, Because he too fondly pursu'd what he lov'd. 3 Spi. For which you shall be Tormented by me, For ever, for ever, by him, and by me. Cho. For which, &c.

3.

1 Spi. Come let's remove. 2 Spi. Come let's remove. 4 Spi. This lump of Diseases and scandal of Love, Let's bear'em from hence to their Torments below, Where Lavishing Souls are wrap'd up in woe; There to Tortures they shall for their mischiefs be sent, Yet never, Oh never, Oh never Repent. Cho. There to, &c.

The Song being ended, the four Spirits drive Sir Symon into the middle of the Stage, and Dance; the Dance being ended, they hurry him away. Arratus raises himself and looks about him.

Arra.

Are they gone?

Rises.

Was ever Marriage so crost, they'r all gone, and have left me no∣thing to keep me Company, but a guilty Conscience; Oh the hor∣ror of it strikes me dead; Murder is the sin Committed, and I the only Actor! Oh Vanlore, could I recall thy Soul, I willingly would give my Daughter to you to satisfie the injuries I did you, but 'tis in vain, the Bloody deed is done, I shall grow mad, my Son and Daughter and my Wits are lost, lost past Redemption,

Howe're I'le spin my Life out, though my Grief Burden my Soul till it is past Relief.

Exit.