I.
_No, _Delia_, no: What Man can range From such Seraphic Pleasure?
'Tis want of Charms that make us change, To grasp the Fury, Treasure.
What Man of Sense wou'd quit a certain Bliss, For Hopes and empty Possibilities?_
II.
_Vain Fools! that sure Possessions spend, In hopes of Chymic Treasure, But for their fancy'd Riches find Both want of Gold and Pleasure.
Rich in my Delia, I can wish no more; The Wanderer, like the Chymist, must be poor._
_Man._ Not see him, Madam--I protest he's handsomer, and handsomer, _Paris_ has given him such an Air:--Lord, he's all over Monsieur--Not see him, Madam--Why? I hope you do not, like the foolish sort of Wives, design a strict Obedience to your Husband.
_Mir._ Away, a Husband!--when Absence, that sure Remedy of Love, had heal'd the bleeding Wound _Lejere_ had made, by Heaven, I thought I ne'er shou'd love again--but since _Endymion_ has inspir'd my Soul, and for that Youth I burn, I pine, I languish.
Enter _George_ richly drest, stands at a distance gazing on _Mirtilla_.
_Man._ See, Madam, there's an Object may put out that Flame, and may revive the old one.
_Mir._ Shame and Confusion.--_Lejere._ [Turns and walks away.
_Geo._ Yonder she is, that Mien and Shape I know, though the false Face be turn'd with shame away.
[Offers to advance, and stops.
--'Sdeath,--I tremble! yet came well fortify'd with Pride and Anger.
I see thou'st in thy Eyes a little Modesty.
[Goes to her nearer.
That wou'd conceal the Treasons of thy Heart.
_Mir._ Perhaps it is their Scorn that you mistake.
_Geo._ It may be so; she that sets up for Jilting, shou'd go on; 'Twere mean to find remorse, so young, and soon: Oh, this gay Town has gloriously improv'd you amongst the rest; that taught you Perjury.
_Mir._ Alas! when was it sworn?
_Geo._ In the blest Age of Love, When every Power look'd down, and heard thy Vows.
_Mir._ I was a Lover then; shou'd Heaven concern it self with Lovers Perjuries, 'twould find no leisure to preserve the Universe.
_Geo._ And was the Woman so strong in thee, thou couldst not wait a little? Were you so raving mad for Fool and Husband, you must take up with the next ready Coxcomb. Death, and the Devil, a dull clumsey Boor!--What was it charm'd you? The beastly quantity of Man about him?
_Mir._ Faith, a much better thing, five thousand Pounds a Year, his Coach and Six, it shews well in the _Park_.
_Geo._ Did I want Coach, or Equipage, and Shew?
_Mir._ But still there wanted Fool, and Fortune to't; He does not play at the Groom-Porter's for it; nor do the Drudgery of some worn-out Lady.
_Geo._ If I did this, thou hadst the spoils of all my Nation's Conquests, while all the whole World was wondering whence it came; for Heav'n had left thee nothing but thy Beauty, that dear Reward of my industrious Love.
_Mir._ I do confess--
_Geo._ Till time had made me certain of a Fortune, which now was hasting on.--
And is that store of Love and wondrous Joys I had been hoarding up so many tender Hours, all lavish'd on a Brute, who never lusted 'bove my Lady's Woman? for Love he understands no more than Sense.
_Mir._ Prithee reproach me on-- [Sighs.
_Geo._ 'Sdeath, I cou'd rave! Is this soft tender Bosom to be prest by such a Load of Fool? Damnation on thee--Where got'st thou this coarse Appetite? Take back the Powers, those Charms she's sworn adorn'd me, since a dull, fat-fac'd, noisy, taudry Blockhead, can serve her turn as well.
[Offers to go.
_Mir._ You shall not go away with that Opinion of me.--
_Geo._ Oh, that false Tongue can now no more deceive--Art thou not marry'd? Tell me that, false Charmer.
_Mir._ Yes.-- [Holding him.
_Geo._ Curse on that word: wou'd thou hadst never learnt it--it gave thy Heart, and my Repose away.
_Mir._ Dost think I marry'd with that dull design? Canst thou believe I gave my Heart away, because I gave my Hand?--Fond Ceremony that--A necessary trick, devis'd by wary Age, to traffick 'twixt a Portion and a Jointure; him whom I lov'd, is marry'd to my Soul.
_Geo._ Art thou then mine? And wilt thou make Atonement, by such a charming way?--Come to my clasping Arms.
Enter Lady _Blunder_ at the Door. Sees 'em, and offers to go out again.
L. _Blun._ Oh, Heavens! How rude am I?--Cry Mercy, Madam, I protest I thought you'd been alone.
_Geo._ 'Sdeath! my Aunt _Blunder_! [Aside.
_Mir._ Only this Gentleman, Madam--
L. _Blun._ Sir, I beg your Pardon--and am really sorry--
_Geo._ That you find me with your Daughter, Madam.
L. _Blun._ I hope you take me to be better bred, Sir: Nor had I interrupted you, but for an Accident that has happen'd to Sir _Morgan_, coming out of the City in a beastly Hackney-Coach, he was turn'd over in _Cheap-side_, and striking the filthy Coach-man, the nasty Mob came out, and had almost kill'd him, but for a young Gentleman, a Stranger, that came to his Rescue, and whom he has brought to kiss your Ladyship's Hands--But I'll instruct him in his Duty, he shall wait till your Ladyship is more at leisure--alas! he's already on the Stairs.
[Exit.
_Mir._ Let him wait there--_Lejere_, 'tis necessary you depart, sure of my Heart, you cannot fear the rest; the Night is hasting on; trust me but some few Hours, and then, _Lejere_, I'll pay you back with Interest.
_Geo._ All Blessings light on thee. But will your Lady Mother make no Discovery of my being here?
_Mir._ She'd sooner pimp for me, and believe it a part of good Breeding:--away, I hear 'em coming.
[She puts him out at a back-Door.
Enter Lady _Blunder_ peeping.
L. _Blun._ He's gone--Sir _Morgan_, you may approach.
Enter Sir _Morgan_, pulling in the _Prince_, Sir _Merlin_, and a _Page_ to the _Prince_.
Sir _Morg._ Nay, as Gat shall save me, Sir, you shall see my Lady, or so, d'ye see, and receive the Thanks of the House.