Volume Iv Part 88 (1/2)

_Fear._ Nay, she's generous too.

_Dar._ Yes, when she's drunk, and then she'll lavish all.

_Ran._ A pox on him, how he vexes me.

_Dar._ Then such a Tongue--she'll rail and smoke till she choke again; then six Gallons of Punch hardly recovers her, and never but then is she good-natur'd.

_Ran._ I must lay him on--

_Dar._ There's not a Blockhead in the Country that has not--

_Ran._ What--

_Dar._ Been drunk with her.

_Ran._ I thought you had meant something else, Sir. [In huff.

_Dar._ Nay--as for that--I suppose there is no great difficulty.

_Ran._ 'Sdeath, Sir, you lye--and you are a Son of a Wh.o.r.e.

[Draws and fences with him, and he runs back round the Stage.

_Dar._ Hold--hold, Virago--dear Widow, hold, and give me thy hand.

_Ran._ Widow!

_Dar._ 'Sdeath, I knew thee by instinct, Widow, though I seemed not to do so, in Revenge for the Trick you put on me in telling me a Lady dy'd for me.

_Ran._ Why, such an one there is, perhaps she may dwindle forty or fifty years--or so--but will never be her own Woman again, that's certain.

_Sure._ This we are all ready to testify, we know her.

_Chris._ Upon my Life, 'tis true.

_Dar._ Widow, I have a shreud Suspicion, that you your self may be this dying Lady.

_Ran._ Why so, c.o.xcomb?

_Dar._ Because you took such Pains to put your self into my hands.

_Ran._ Gad, if your Heart were but half so true as your Guess, we should conclude a Peace before _Bacon_ and the Council will--besides, this thing whines for _Friendly_, and there's no hopes.

[To _Chrisante_.

_Dar._ Give me thy Hand, Widow, I am thine--and so entirely, I will never--be drunk out of thy Company:--_Dunce_ is in my Tent,--prithee let's in and bind the Bargain.

_Ran._ Nay, faith, let's see the Wars at an end first.

_Dar._ Nay, prithee take me in the humour, while thy Breeches are on--for I never lik'd thee half so well in Petticoats.