_Wild_. Most visibly in Love! Oh, Sir, Nature, Laws, and Religion plead for so near a Kinsman.
Sir _Tim_. Laws and Religion! Alas, my Lord, he deserves not the Name of a Patriot, who does not for the publick Good, defy all Laws and Religion.
_Wild_. Death, I must interrupt 'em--Sir, pray what Lady's that.
[Wild, salutes her.
Sir _Tim_. I beseech your Lordship know her, 'tis my Lady _Galliard_; the rest are all my Friends and Neighbours, true Protestants all--Well, my Lord, how do you like my Method of doing the business of the Nation, and carrying on the Cause with Wine, Women, and so forth?
_Wild_. High Feeding and smart Drinking, gains more to the Party, than your smart Preaching.
Sir _Tim_. Your Lordship has hit it right: a rare Man this!
_Wild_. But come, Sir, leave serious Affairs, and oblige these fair ones.
[_Addresses himself to_ Galliard, _Sir_ Charles _puts him by.
Enter_ Charlot _disguised_, Clacket _and_ Foppington.
Sir _Char_. Heavens, Clacket, yonder's my False one, and that my lovely Rival.
[_Pointing to_ Wild, _and L_. Gal.
_Enter_ Diana _and_ Sensure _masked, and_ Betty.
_Dia_. Dear Mrs. _Sensure_, this Favour has oblig'd me.
_Sen_. I hope you'll not discover it to his Worship, Madam.
_Wild_. By her Mien, this shou'd be handsome-- [_Goes to_ Diana.]
Madam, I hope you have not made a Resolution to deny me the Honour of your Hand.
_Dia_. Ha, _Wilding_! Love can discover thee through all Disguise.
_Wild_. Hah, _Diana_! wou'd 'twere Felony to wear a Vizard. Gad, I'd rather meet it on the King's Highway, with Stand and Deliver, than thus encounter it on the Face of an old Mistress; and the Cheat were more excusable--But how-- [_Talks aside with her_.
Sir _Char_. Nay, never frown nor chide: For thus do I intend to shew my Authority, till I have made thee only fit for me.
_Wild_. Is't so, my precious Uncle? Are you so great a Devil in Hypocrisy? Thus had I been serv'd, had I brought him the right Woman.
[_Aside_.
_Dia_. But do not think, dear _Tommy_, I wou'd have serv'd thee so; married thy Uncle, and have cozen'd thee of thy Birth-right--But see, we're observ'd.
[Charlot _listening behind him all this while_.
_Char_. By all that's good 'tis he! that Voice is his!
[_He going from_ Dian. _turns upon_ Charlot, _and looks_.
_Wild_. Hah, what pretty Creature's this, that has so much of _Charlot_ in her Face? But sure she durst not venture; 'tis not her Dress nor Mien.
Dear pretty Stranger, I must dance with you.
_Char_. Gued deed, and see ye shall, Sir, gen you please. Though I's not dance, Sir, I's tell ya that noo.
_Wild_. Nor I, so we're well matcht. By Heaven, she's wondrous like her.
_Char_. By th' Mass not so kind, Sir: 'Twere gued that ene of us shou'd dance to guid the other weel.
_Wild_. How young, how innocent and free she is! And wou'd you, fair one, be guided by me?
_Char_. In any thing that gued is.
_Wild_. I love you extremely, and wou'd teach you to love.
_Char_. Ah, wele aday! [_Sighs and smiles_.
_Wild_. A thing I know you do not understand.
_Char_. Gued faith, and ya're i'th' right, Sir; yet 'tis a thing I's often hear ya gay men talk of.
_Wild_. Yes, and no doubt have been told those pretty Eyes inspired it.
_Char_. Gued deed, and so I have! Ya men make sa mickle ado about ens Eyes, ways me, I's ene tir'd with sick-like Complements.
_Wild_. Ah, if you give us wounds, we must complain.
_Char_. Ye may ene keep out a harms way then.
_Wild_. Oh, we cannot; or if we cou'd, we wou'd not.
_Char_. Marry, and I's have ene a Song tol that tune, Sir.
_Wild_. Dear Creature, let me beg it.
_Char_. Gued faith, ya shall not, Sir, I's sing without entreaty.
SONG.
_Ah, Jenny, gen your Eyes do kill, You'll let me tell my Pain; Gued Faith, I lov'd against my Will, But wad not break my Chain.
I ence was call'd a bonny Lad, Till that fair Face of yours Betray'd the Freedom ence I had, And ad my bleether Howers.
But noo ways me like Winter looks, My gloomy showering Eyne, And on the Banks of shaded Brooks I pass my wearied time.
I call the Stream that gleedeth on, To witness if it see, On all the flowry Brink along, A Swain so true as lee_.
_Wild_. This very Swain am I, so true and so forlorn, unless ye pity me.--This is an excellency _Charlot_ wants, at least I never heard her sing. [_Aside_.
Sir _Anth_. Why, _Charles_, where stands the Woman, _Charles_?
[Fop. _comes up to_ Charlot.
_Wild_. I must speak to _Galliard_, though all my Fortunes depend on the Discovery of my self. [_Aside_.
Sir _Anth_. Come, come, a cooling Glass about.