Volume Iv Part 112 (1/2)

_Prince._ No, my _Mirtilla_, if it be thy Fate, I'll grasp thee, ev'n in Flames, and die with thee.

_Mir._ We die! we die! the Flame takes hold of us.

Enter _George_ with a Ladder, and puts it to the Window.

_Prince._ Ha! some pitying G.o.d takes care of us. Haste, haste, my Charmer; Heav'n has sent us Aid.

[Puts her on the Ladder, she descends into _George's_ Arms; after her, the _Prince_. _George_ puts her into _Manage's_ Arms, she faints; he runs up to receive the _Prince_.

_Prince._ _Lejere!_ dear Man of Luck--Some happy Star reign'd at thy glorious Birth; every thing is prosperous thou espousest.--How fares my Love, the Treasure of my Soul?

_Man._ Only fainting with the Fright, but she recovers.

_Prince._ My Chair there, quickly, that waits for me.--

Enter Chair; he puts her, and _Manage_ into it.

Enter _Olivia_.

Carry 'em to Mr. _Welborn's_, to my Lodgings there, and then return to me; for I am wondrous faint, and cannot walk.

_Oliv._ Ha! by my Life, my Man!

_Prince._ But if I might impose so much, _Lejere_, upon thy Friends.h.i.+p, I beg thou wouldst see her safely carry'd to my Lodgings at _Welborn's_.

_Geo._ You shall command me, Sir.

[Exeunt Chair, _George_ and _Britton_.

_Oliv._ You seem not well, Sir, pray repose upon my Arm a while.

_Prince._ I thank you, Sir, indeed I am not well.

_Oliv._ Methinks I find a Pleasure but in touching him--Wou'd I cou'd see his Face by all this fatal Light.

Enter _Constable_ and Watch.

_Const._ So, so, the Fire abates, the Engines play'd rarely, and we have Ten Guineas here, Neighbours, to watch about the House; for where there's Fire, there's Rogues--Hum, who have we here?--How now, Mr.--Hum, what have you got under your Arm there, ha? Take away this Box of Jewels.

[Sir _Morgan_, and Sir _Merlin_, creeping out of the Cellar Window.

Ha, who have we here creeping out of the Cellar-Window? more Rogues!

Sir _Mer._ Sirrah! you're a Baud, Sirrah! and for a Tester will wink at the Vices of the Nation, Sirrah! Call men of the best Quality Rogues!

that have stood for Knights of the s.h.i.+re, and made the Mobile drunk, Sirrah!

_Const._ We cry you Mercy, Sir, we did not know your Wors.h.i.+ps.

Sir _Morg._ Lookye, de see, here's a Crown for you; carry us to the next Tavern, and we'll make thee, and all thy Mirmidons, as drunk as a Boat in a Storm.