_Oliv._ But this is a Maid, Sir.
_Wel._ Worse still! At every turn she's raving on her Honour; then if she have a Kinsman, or a Brother, I must be challeng'd.
_Oliv._ Sir, you mistake, my Lady is for Matrimony.
_Wel._ How!
_Oliv._ You have not forsworn it, I hope.
_Wel._ Not so--but--
_Oliv._ If a Lady, young and handsom, and Ten Thousand Pounds--
_Wel._ Nay, I am not positive--
Enter Sir _Morgan_, and Sir _Merlin_, drunk, singing.
_Wise Coxcombs be damn'd, here's a health to the Man, That since Life is but short, lives as long as he can._
Sir _Morg._ Where is my Lady _Mirtilla_, Rogues?
Sir _Mer._ And my Mistress, Rascals? For we are resolv'd to shew our selves in Triumph to our Wives and Mistresses.
L. _Youth._ Your Mistress, Sir _Merlin_? mistake not your Mark.
Sir _Mer._ Ha! Art thou there, old Cathedral? Why, thou look'st as magnificiently as old Queen _Bess_ in the _Westminster_-Cupboard.
Sir _Morg._ Lookye as de see, when _Adam_ wore a Beard, she was in her Prime, or so, de see.
[Sings.
L. _Youth._ Sir, you are a saucy _Jack_, and your Father shall correct you.
Sir _Mer._ My Father! my Father's an old Toast, de see; and I hope to see him hang'd.
Sir _Row._ Here's a Heathen-Christian! see his Father hang'd!
Sir _Mer._ Ay, hang'd, and all the old Fathers in _Christendom_. Why, what a Pox shou'd Fathers trouble the World for? when I come to reign in Parliament, I will enact it Felony, for any Father to have so little Grace to live, that has a Son at Years of Discretion.
Sir _Row._ A damn'd Rogue, I'll disinherit him immediately.
L. _Blun._ Is it so great a Crime, Brother, for a Gentleman to be drunk?
Sir _Mer._ You lye like a Son of a Whore--I have been drinking Confusion to all the Fathers and Husbands in _England_.
Sir _Morg._ How, Sir, Confusion to Husbands! Look ye, de see, Sir, swallow me that Word, or I'll make you deposit all the conjugal Wine you have drunk.
Sir _Mer._ I deposit all your Wine! Sirrah, you're a Blunderbuss.
Sir _Morg._ Sirrah, you are a diminutive Bully.
Sir _Mer._ Sirrah, you're the Whore of _Babylon_, and I defy you.
Sir _Morg._ Lookye, de see, I scorn to draw upon a drunken Man, or so, I being sober; but I boldly challenge you into the Cellar, where thou shalt drink till thou renounce thy Character, or talk Treason enough to hang thee, and that's fair and civil.
Sir _Mer._ Agreed; and when I'm drunk enough to ravish, I'll cuckold my old Dad, and fight him for his Mistress.
Sir _Row._ I have no Patience; I'll kill the Dog, because I'll have the Law on my side--Come on, Sir.
[Draws, the Ladies run out. Sir _Merlin_ draws. _George_ runs in and parts 'em.
_Geo._ Villain! Rascal! What, draw upon thy Father!
Sir _Row._ Pray, Sir, who are you? that I may thank you for my Life.
_Geo._ One, Sir, whose Duty 'twas. [Pulls off his Vizard.
Sir _Row._ What, my dear _George_!--I'll go and cut off the Intail of my Estate presently, and thou shalt have it all, Boy, thou shalt--
[Exeunt all but _George_.
_Geo._ Fortune is still my Friend: Had but Mirtilla been so! I wonder that she sends not to me: my Love's impatient, and I cannot wait--while the dull Sot is boozing with his Brother-Fools in the Cellar, I'll softly to the Chamber of my Love--Perhaps she waits me there-- [Exit.
SCENE II. _A Chamber, and Alcove, discovers _Mirtilla_ and Prince _Frederick_._
_Prince._ Oh! I am ravish'd with excess of Joy.
_Mir._ Enough, my charming Prince! Oh, you have said enough.
_Prince._ Never, my _Mirtilla_!
The Sun that views the World, nor the bright Moon, that favours Lovers Stealths, shall ever see that Hour. Vast, as thy Beauties, are my young Desires; and every new Possession kindles new Flames, soft as thy Eyes, soft as thy tender Touches; and e'er the Pantings of my Heart are laid, new Transports, from new Wishes, dance about it, and still remain in Love's harmonious Order.
[Kisses and embraces her.
Enter _George_, softly.
_Geo._ This House I know, and this should be her Bed-Chamber, because the best; and yet methought I heard another Voice--but I may be mistaken.
_Prince._ I faint with Pleasure of each tender Clasp; I sigh, and languish, gazing on thy Eyes! and die upon thy Lips, with every Kiss.
_Geo._ Surely I know that Voice! Torments, and Hell!--but 'tis impossible.
[Aside.
_Prince._ Oh! satisfy my Doubt, my trembling Doubt! Am I belov'd? Have I about me ought engaging to thee, Charmer of my Soul?
_Geo._ It is the Prince. [Aside.
_Mir._ Ah, Prince! Can you such needless Questions ask, after the Sacrifice which I have made?
_Geo._ Hell take thee for that Falshood. [Draws.