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Show 38 Sir Harry Wildair 5 being Cafe in equal Ballance; and fee whofe Merit bears the greater weight, his or mine. Wild. Well argu'd, Collonel. Stand. Suppofe your felf freely difingag'd, unmarry'd, and to make a choice of him you thought moft worthy of your Love ; wou'd you prefer a Brute ? a Mookey ? one deftin'd only for the Sport of M a n ? Yes: take him to your Bed ; there let theBeaft difgorge his fulfom Load in your fair lovely Bofom, fnore out his Paffion in your loft Embrace, and with the Vapours of his fick Debauch, perfume yourfweet Appart-ment. Lure. A h naufeous! naufeous ! Poyfon! Stand. I ne'er was taught to fet a value on m y felf: But when compar'd to him, there Modefty muft ftoop, and Indignation give m y words a loofe, to tell you, Madam, that I a m a M a n unblemifh'd in m y Honour, have nobly ferv'd m y King and Country; and for a Lady's Service, I think that Nature has not been defective. Wild. Egad I fhou'd think fo too; the Fellow's well made. Stand. I'm young as He, m y Perfon too as fair to outward view ; and for m y Mind, I thought it cou'd diftinguifh right, and therefore made a choice of y o u . - Your Sex have blefs'd our Ifle with Beauty, by diftant Nations priz'd; and cou'd they place their Loves aright, their Lovers might acquire the Envy of Mankind, as well as They the Wonder of the World. Wild. Ay, n o w he coaxes. He will conquer, unlefs I relieve her in time ; She begins to melt already. Stand. A d d to all this, I love you next to Heav'n; and by t\)\t Heav'n I fwear, the conftant ftudy of m y Days and Nights have been to pleafe m y deareft Wife. Your Pleafure never met control from m e , nor your Defires a Frown. • I never mention'd ray diftruft before, nor will I now wrong your diicretion, fo as e'er tp think you made him an Appointment. Lure. Generous, generous M a n ! (Weeps. Wild. Nay, then 'tis time for m e ; I will relieve her. • [He fleals out of the Clofet, and coming behind Standard, claps on the Shoulder.] Collonel, your humble Servant. - - Stand. Sir Harry! how came you hither ? Wild. Ah, poor Fellow! Thou haft got thy Load with a wit-nefs ; but the Wine was humming ftrong; I have got a touch on't m y felf. (Reels a little. Stand. Wine, Sir Harry ! W h a t W i n e ? Wild. W h y , 'twas new Burgundy, heady Stuff; But th« Dog was foon gone, knock'd under prefently,- Stanfa |