_Prince._ Ah! wouldst thou see me on a Precipice, and not prevent my Danger?
_Geo._ To mightier Friendship I cou'd all surrender, and silently have born her Perjuries; but those to you, awaken'd all my Rage: but she has out-trick'd me, and I beg her Pardon--And to secure her yours, have lov'd anew, and beg Protection in your Lodgings, Sir, for a young Maid whom I design to marry.
_Prince._ Command my Life, my Fortune, and my Sword, for the unwilling Injury I have done thee--And is this the charming, perjur'd Fair, _Mirtilla_?
_Geo._ It is, Sir.
_Prince._ Since it is possible that you cou'd cease to love this Gallant Man, whom I have heard with so much tender Passion tell your Loves, what sacred Vows had past, and what Endearments, how can I hope from thee a lasting Faith?--Yet on the Oaths that thou hast sworn to me--by all thy Hopes of Pardon for thy Perjuries, to ease my panting Heart--once speak the Truth--Didst thou not take this Woman for a Man?
_Mir._ I did--and were she so, I wou'd with Pride own all the Vows I've broke.
_Prince._ Why, this is fair--and though I buy this Knowledge at the vast Price of all my Repose; yet I must own, 'tis a better Bargain than chaff'ring of a Heart for feign'd Embraces--Thou hast undone me--yet must have my Friendship; and 'twill be still some Ease in this Extreme, to see thee yet repent, and love _Lejere_.
_Mir._ No, Sir, this Beauty must be first declining, to make me take up with a former Lover.
_Geo._ No, Sir, I have dispos'd my Heart another way; and the first knowledge of her Falshood cur'd me: Her Marriage I forgave--that thing of Form--but never could her Fondness to this Youth.
_Prince._ Who's this Lady, Sir, whose Pardon I must beg?
_Geo._ My Sister, Sir, who I disguis'd on purpose to be a Guard to this suspected Fair One.
Enter _Welborn_.
_Wel._ Ha, she's there!
Now every Feature points me out my Conqueress.--Nay, start not--I have found Thee, thou malicious Charmer, to bring me so near to Bliss, and not afford me one kind hint.
_Oliv._ And are not you a very dull Fellow, that lov'd and long'd, and had the Maid so near you, and yet needed a Hint?
_Wel._ Nay, if you conceal'd your precious Talent, how shou'd it profit any body?
_Oliv._ Conceal'd it!--No, Faith, I made a very fair Tender; but you refus'd it, as not being current Coin.
_Wel._ But if you most feloniously, and unlawfully deface our Sovereign's Image, so as it may be as soon taken for the Grand Signior's, I may suspect the Metal too.
_Oliv._ What say you if I tender it before these lawful Witnesses?
_Wel._ I'll take it for good Payment--I _Charles Welborn_--
_Oliv._ Ha, _Welborn_! [Aside.
_Wel._ Take thee--whom?--Gad, if the Parson of the Parish knew your Name no better than I--'twill be but a blind Bargain.
_Geo._ _Olivia Marteen_--
_Wel._ My destin'd Wife!
_Geo._ The very same: Have you the Parson ready?
_Wel._ He waits in my Chamber.
_Oliv._ Madam, I beg you'll lend me something more becoming my Sex.
_Mir._ _Manage_ will furnish you from my Wardrobe.
[Exit _Olivia_ with _Manage_.
Enter _Teresia_.
_Geo._ And see my good Genius appears too.
_Ter._ See, Sir, I am resolv'd to be welcome to your Arms; look, here are the Writings of the Estate my Grandfather left me, and here's three thousand Pound my Grandmother has settled on me, upon her Marriage with you.
[Gives him the Writings.
_Geo._ And here's my Father's Estate settled on me--Come, let's put them together--and go in, and let the Parson do as much for us.
[Puts 'em in her Case.
_Ter._ But have you very well considered this Matter?
_Geo._ Teresia, we'll do like most Couples, marry first, and consider afterwards-- [Leads her in.
Enter a Footman.
_Foot._ Sir, here's Sir _Merlin_, with a Lady mask'd, wou'd speak with you.
_Wel._ Carry 'em into the Dining-Room, I'll wait on 'em anon.
[Exeunt _Omnes_.
SCENE IV. _My Lady _Youthly's_; Discovers her, and _Lettice_ dressing her._
L. _Youth._ Hold the Glass higher, _Lettice_; is not this Tour too brown?--Methinks it does not give a youthful Aire to my Face.
_Lett._ That's not in Nature.
L. _Youth._ Like Nature! Ay, but Nature's self wants Art, nor does this Fontange suit with my Complexion--put on a little more red, _Lettice_, on my Cheeks, and Lips.
[She does so.
_Lett._ Ay, for they are but a little too much upon the _Coventry_-Blue--This Tour must come more forward, Madam, to hide the Wrinkles at the corners of your Eyes-- [Pulls it.
L. _Youth._ Ay, _Lettice_, but there are others, that neither Tours, nor Paint, nor Patches will hide, I fear--yet altogether, _Lettice_-- [Puts on her Spectacles, and looks in the Glass.
Enter _Sir Rowland_.
Sir _Row._ What, no Bride yet, nor Bridegroom?
L. _Youth._ Ay, what can be the meaning of this?
Sir _Row._ But _Teresia_, Madam, where can she be gadding?