Volume Iii Part 42 (1/2)

ACT IV.

SCENE I.

Enter, _as aboard the s.h.i.+p_, Guiliom, Isabella, Francisco, Julia, Antonio, Clara, Jacinta, Pedro _and his Wife_, Pages.

_Guil_. Ladies and Gentlemen, you are very welcome aboard--Come, put off to Sea, Rogues, Scoundrels, Tarpaulins, to your Business, and then, every man his Bottle,--hey, Page, Rogues, where are my Men? Come, spread the Table--for we are very hungry.

_Isa_. Heav'ns, what a peculiar Grace there is in every word that comes from the Mouth of a Cavalier.

_Guil_. By _Mars_, the G.o.d of Love!

_Page_. By _Cupid_, Sir. [Aside to him.

Guil. _Cupid_, Sirrah! I say, I'll have it _Mars_, there's more Thunder in the Sound: I say, by _Mars_, these Gallies are pretty neat convenient Tenements--but a--I see ne'er a Chimney in 'em:--Pox on't, what have I to do with a Chimney now?

_Isa_. He is a delicate fine Person, _Jacinta_; but, methinks he does not make Love enough to me.

_Jac_. Oh, Madam, Persons of his Quality never make Love in Words, the greatness of their Actions show their Pa.s.sion.

_Jac_. Ay, 'tis true all the little Fellows talk of Love.

_Guil_. Come, Ladies, set; Come, _Isabella_, you are melancholy,--Page --Fill my Lady a Beer-gla.s.s.

_Isa_. Ah, Heav'ns, a Beer-gla.s.s.

_Guil_. O, your Viscountess never drinks under your Beer-gla.s.s, your Citizens Wives simper and sip, and will be drunk without doing Credit to the Treater; but in their Closets, they swinge it away, whole Slashes, i'faith, and egad, when a Woman drinks by her self, Gla.s.ses come thick about: your Gentlewoman, or your little Lady, drinks half way, and thinks in point of good manners, she must leave some at the bottom; but your true bred Woman of Honour drinks all, _Supernaculum_, by _Jove_.

_Isa_. What a misfortune it was, that I should not know this before, but shou'd discover my want of so necessary a piece of Grandeur.

_Jac_. And nothing, but being fuddled, will redeem her Credit.

_Guil_. Come--fall to, old Boy,--thou art not merry; what, have we none that can give us a Song?

_Ant_. Oh Sir, we have an Artist aboard I'll a.s.sure you; Signior _Cas.h.i.+er_, shall I beg the favour of you to shew your Skill?

_Pet_. Sir, my Wife and I'm at your service.

_Guil_. Friend, what Language can you sing?

_Pet_. Oh, Sir, your Singers speak all Languages.

_Guil_. Say'st thou so, prithee then let's have a touch of Heathen _Greek_.

_Pet_. That you shall, Sir, Sol la me fa sol, &c.

_Fran_. Hum, I think this is indeed Heathen _Greek_, I'm sure 'tis so to me.

_Guil_. Ay, that may be, but I understand every word on't.