Volume Iii Part 58 (2/2)

Sir _Feeb_. Always by day-light, Sir _Cautious_.

_But when bright_ Phoebus _does retire, To_ Thetis' _Bed to quench his fire.

And do the thing we need not name, We Mortals by his influence do the same.

Then then the blus.h.i.+ng Maid lays by Her simpering, and her Modesty; And round the Lover clasps and twines Like Ivy, or the circling Vines_.

Sir _Feeb_. Here, _Ralph_, the Bottle, Rogue, of Sack, ye Rascal; hadst thou been a Butler worth hanging, thou wou'dst have met us at the door with it.--Ods bods, Sweet-heart, thy health.

_Bear_. Away with it, to the Bride's _Haunce in Kelder_.

Sir _Feeb_. Gots so, go to, Rogue, go to, that shall be, Knave, that shall be the morrow morning; he--ods bobs, we'll do't, Sweet heart; here's to't. [_Drinks again_.

_Let_. I die but to imagine it, wou'd I were dead indeed.

Sir _Feeb_. Hah--hum--how's this? Tears upon the Wedding day? Why, why--you Baggage, you, ye little Thing, Fools-face--away, you Rogue, you're naughty, you're naughty. [_Patting and playing, and following her_. Look--look--look now,--buss it--buss it--buss it--and Friends; did'ums, did'ums beat its none silly Baby--away, you little Hussey, away, and pledge me-- [_She drinks a little_.

Sir _Cau_. A wise discreet Lady, I'll warrant her; my Lady would prodigally have took it off all.

Sir _Feeb_. Dear's its nown dear Fubs; buss again, buss again, away, away--ods bobs, I long for Night--look, look, Sir _Cautious_, what an Eye's there!

Sir _Cau_. Ay, so there is, Brother, and a modest Eye too.

Sir _Feeb_. Adad, I love her more and more, _Ralph_--call old _Susan_ hither--come, Mr. _Bearjest_, put the Gla.s.s about. Ods bobs, when I was a young Fellow, I wou'd not let the young Wenches look pale and wan--but would rouse 'em, and touse 'em, and blowze 'em, till I put a colour in their Cheeks, like an Apple _John_, affacks--Nay, I can make a s.h.i.+ft still, and Pupsey shall not be jealous.

_Enter_ Susan, _Sir_ Feeble _whispers her, she goes out_.

_Let_. Indeed, not I; Sir. I shall be all Obedience.

Sir _Cau_. A most judicious Lady; would my _Julia_ had a little of her Modesty; but my Lady's a Wit.

_Enter_ Susan _with a Box_.

Sir _Feeb_. Look here, my little Puskin, here's fine Playthings for its nown little c.o.xcomb--go--get you gone--get you gone, and off with this St. _Martin's_ Trumpery, these Play-house Gla.s.s Baubles, this Necklace, and these Pendants, and all this false Ware; ods bobs, I'll have no Counterfeit Geer about thee, not I. See--these are right as the Blushes on thy Cheeks, and these as true as my Heart, my Girl. Go, put'em on, and be fine.

[_Gives 'em her_.

_Let_. Believe me, Sir, I shall not merit this kindness.

Sir _Feeb_. Go to--More of your Love, and less of your Ceremony--give the old Fool a hearty buss, and pay him that way--he, ye little wanton t.i.t, I'll steal up--and catch ye and love ye--adod, I will--get ye gone--get ye gone.

_Let_. Heavens, what a nauseous thing is an old Man turn'd Lover!

[_Ex_. Leticia _and_ Diana.

Sir _Cau_. How, steal up, Sir _Feeble_--I hope not so; I hold it most indecent before the lawful hour.

Sir _Feeb_. Lawful hour! Why, I hope all hours are lawful with a Man's own Wife.

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