Volume Xiv Part 76 (1/2)

_Enter_ SIR AMADIN PUNY, SIR JASPER SIMPLETON, SIR ARTHUR HEARTLESS, SIR GREGORY SHAPELESS, SIR TRISTRAM SHORTTOOL, SIR REUBEN SCATTERGOOD.

SIR REU. Doubt nothing, my fellow-knights of Hornsey; the plot is so neatly and nimbly laid as it cannot but hold st.i.tch.

ALL. But be the favourites' suits got, Sir Reuben?

SIR REU. They are brought to our lodgings already. To try a conclusion, I have most fortunately made their pages our 'coys by the influence of a white powder, which has wrought so powerfully on their tender pulse, as they have engaged themselves ours back and edge. _Sunt munera vincula servis._

SIR TRIS. 'Tis true, but how shall we pursue this project, that we may act to purpose what your ingenuity has contrived?

SIR REU. Leave that to me; be it your care to follow my direction, and if I make not these haxters as hateful to our hussies as ever they were to us who were their husbands, set me up for a Jack-a-Lent or a Shrove-c.o.c.k for every boy to throw at!

The net is spread, and if they 'scape the noose, they must have more eyes than their own to discover it.

SIR AMA. Excellent, excellent! I long till I be at work.

SIR REU. It will admit no delay, Sir Amadin, I a.s.sure you. We have not overwatched this night to no purpose. This very morning by times we must be fitted with our properties, and with a scornful neglect pa.s.s by that rendezvous where our gamesome ladies expect their youthful Platonics.

SIR GRE. Revenge to me 's far sweeter than to live.

ALL. To't, to't; for love's sake, let us to't.

SIR REU. The plot is laid with such industrious skill, If this take not, I do not know what will.

[_Exeunt._

ACT IV., SCENE 1.

_Enter_ MADAM FRICASE, MADAM CAVEARE, MADAM JULIPPE, MADAM JOCULETTE, MADAM MEDLAR, MADAM TINDER.

FRI. How tedious morns these be in our expectance Of what we tender most?

CAV. Credit me, madam, My marriage-day from th' rising sun to night Seem'd not so long, though it was long enough-- As the slow-running course of this morn's visit.

JUL. Desires cannot endure protractive hours; The poet has confirm'd our thoughts in this, Placing our action far below our wish: ”Sooner quenched is love's fire With fruition than desire.”

JOC. That poet surely was neither Mantuan, Lucian, nor Claudian.

MED. No, sister; nor Alcaeus, Eubaeus, nor Apuleius; but some cold cuc.u.mber-spirit--Xenocrates, who never actually knew how to hug his mistress.

TIN. This is the hour and place.

FRI. It is so; and no doubt but our feathered favourites have overflown us.

SCENE II.

_Enter_ VINTRESS _and_ DRAWERS.

VIN. What do you lack, my princely beauties?

CAV. What your s.e.x cannot furnish us with, my dainty Dabrides.