_Ter._ Then to all the small Villages, call'd little Freedoms, Kissing, Playing, Fooling, Sighing, Dying--and so on to the last Stage, where Whip and Spur laid by, all tir'd and dull, you lazily lie down and sleep.
_Geo._ No, I'm a more vigorous Lover: And since in the Country of True Love there remains a _Terra Incognita_, I shall always be making new Discoveries.
_Ter._ True Love! is there such a thing in the whole Map of Nature?
_Geo._ Yes, I once discover'd it in my Voyage round the World.
_Ter._ Sure 'tis some enchanted Place, and vanishes as soon as 'tis approach'd.
Enter Sir _Rowland_.
_Geo._ Faith, let's set out for it, and try; if we lose our Labour, we shall, like Searchers for the Philosophers Stone, find something that will recompense our pains.-- [Lady _Youthly_ sees her, and sends her Woman to take her from him.
Ha, gone--I must not part so with you--I'll have you in my Eye.
[The _Spanish_ Dance: Whilst they dance, the _Prince_ talks to _Mirtilla_.
_Mir._ This Night gives you an Assignation--I tremble at the thought--Ah, why will you pursue me thus to Ruin? Why with resistless Charms invade my Heart, that cannot stand their Force--alone--without my Woman?--the Enterprize with you would be too dangerous.
_Prince._ Dangerous to be ador'd! and at your Feet behold your Slave making eternal Vows?
_Mir._ If I were sure that you would pass no further--
_Prince._ Let the fond God of Love be my Security--will you not trust a Deity?
_Mir._ Whom should she trust, that dares not trust her self?
_Geo._ That is some Lover, whom I must observe. [Aside.
_Mir._ Alas, the Foe's within that will betray me, Ambition, and our Sex's Vanity--Sir, you must prevail--
_Prince._ And in return, for ever take my Soul.
_Mir._ Anon I'll feign an Illness, and retire to my Apartment, whither this faithful Friend shall bring you, Sir.
[Pointing to _Manage_.
_Geo._ Hum!--that looks like some Love Bargain, and _Manage_ call'd to Witness. By Heav'n, gay Sir, I'll watch you.
_Ter._ But hark ye, my Fellow-Adventurer, are you not marry'd?
_Geo._ Marry'd--that's a Bug-word--prithee if thou hast any such Design, keep on thy Mask, lest I be tempted to Wickedness.
_Ter._ Nay, truth is, 'tis a thousand pities to spoil a handsom man, to make a dull Husband of: I have known an old batter'd Bully of Seventy, unmarry'd, more agreeable for a Gallant, than any scurvy, out-of-humour'd Husband at Eight and Twenty.
_Geo._ Gad, a thousand times.
_Ter._ Know, I have Five Hundred Pounds a Year.
_Geo._ Good.
_Ter._ And the Devil and all of Expectations from an old Woman.
_Geo._ Very good.
_Ter._ And this Youth, and little Beauty to lay out in love.
[Pulls off her Mask.
_Geo._ _Teresia!_ the lovely Maid design'd for my Mother! now, what a Dog am I? that gives me the greater Gust to her, and wou'd fain cuckold my Father.
[Talks to her aside. _Mirtilla_ seems to faint.
_Man._ My Lady faints--help, help.
_Mir._ Only the Heat oppresses me--but let it not disturb the Company, I'll take the Air a little, and return.
[Goes out with _Manage_.
_Geo._ Is this design'd or real?--perhaps she is retir'd for me--Mrs.
_Manage_.-- [_Manage_ re-enters, he pulls her by the Sleeve.
_Man._ Hah! Monsieur _Lejere_! what shall I feign to put him off withal.
[Aside.
_Geo._ Why dost thou start? How does my dear _Mirtilla_?
_Man._ Reposing, Sir, awhile, but anon I'll wait on her for your admittance.
[Prince _Frederick_ puts on _Welborn's_ Cloke, goes out, and _Welborn_ enters into the Company dress'd like the _Prince_.
_Geo._ Ha, she spoke in passing by that gay thing--What means it, but I'll trace the Mystery.
Sir _Row._ The young People are lazy, and here's nothing but gaping and peeping in one another's Vizards; come, Madam, let you and I shame 'em into Action.
[Sir _Rowland_ and Lady _Youthly_ dance. After the Dance, _Olivia_ enters with a Letter, and gives it to _Welborn_.
_Wel._ Ha! what's this, Sir, a Challenge?
_Oliv._ A soft one, Sir.
_Wel._ A Billet--whoever the Lady be, [Reads.
She merits something for but believing I am worth her Mirth.
_Oliv._ I know not, Sir, how great a Jest you may make of it; but I assure you the Lady is in earnest, and if you be at leisure to hear Reason from her--
_Wel._ Fair and softly, my dear Love-Messenger, I am for no hasty Bargains; not but I shou'd be glad to hear Reason from any of the Sex--But I have been so damnably jilted--Is she of Quality?
_Oliv._ Yes.
_Wel._ Then I'll not hear any thing from her: they are troublesome, and insolent; and if she have a Husband, to hide her Intrigues she has recourse to all the little Arts and Cunnings of her Sex; and she that jilts her Husband, will her Lover.
_Oliv._ She is not troubled with a Husband, Sir.
_Wel._ What, she's parted from the Fool! then she's expensive, and for want of Alimony, jilts all the believing Block-heads that she meets with.